


Paid In Full

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abduction, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gangster, Mob!Dean, Mobster AU, Mobster Dean Winchester, Murder, Rape, Sex, Smut, Violence, dark!fic, kidnap, non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 07:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 44,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16551251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Dean makes a deal with a rival mobster who doesn’t come through on his end of the deal. Sort of. Now Dean’s gotta deal with having an innocent’s life literally in his control.





	1. Chapter 1

“It’s not here.”

Dean turned, glaring at his brother. “What the fuck you mean, it’s not here?”

Sam sighed, gesturing to the warehouse around them, empty except for a few packing crates. “It’s not here, Dean. Victor  _screwed_  us. Just like I said he would.” He pointed at Benny before jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Do a sweep. See if there’s  _anything_.”

The sound of Dean’s fist going through the side of a wooden pallet echoed around the walls of the huge building along with his enraged roar. Sam watched impassively, folding his arms over his chest as Dean panted heavily.

“Are you done?” Sam asked, sounding bored.

“Look, I get you like being right, but there’s no need to sound so fucking smug about it.”

“Boss!” Benny’s yell came from the back door. “We got somethin’ out here.” The brothers looked at each other before heading for the back of the building, pushing through the large plastic flaps into the loading yard. “She’s alive. Unconscious. Pretty banged up.”

Dean’s phone started to ring, blasting heavy rock from inside his jacket pocket. He pulled out the phone as another of his men walked into sight, the body of an unconscious woman in his arms. Sam’s muttered curse went unheard as Dean answered the call.

“ _Dean Winchester_.”

“Victor,” Dean growled and Sam looked at him sharply. “Where’s the money? We had a deal.”

“ _We did_ ,” Victor replied coolly. “ _And I’m honoring that deal. Consider the girl your half of the pot_.”

“She’s not money,” Dean snapped. “She’s a person. I don’t trade in people.”

“ _Then ditch her. She won’t make it far. No one left, that one. Her own father gave her to me. Not that it did him any good._ ”

Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder but the older Winchester shrugged him off, turning away. “I want my goddamn six mil, Victor. Or you’re a dead man.”

Victor laughed on the other end of the line. “ _Don’t make threats you can’t carry out, boy._ ”

Dean snarled. “And who says I can’t? I see you within thirty miles of Lawrence, I will kill you.” He ended the call, looking up at his brother’s exasperated expression. “What?”

“One day, you’re gonna listen to me when I tell you not to do something. Victor was gonna stiff you all along.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grunted, pushing past Sam towards Benny. “You’re always right, I get it.” He stood in front of the older man, looking down at the girl cradled in his arms. She was late-twenties, early thirties at a push. The entirety of her bare skin was covered in bruises and cuts, filth smeared on her from tip to toe, making her unrecognizable. Her hair was matted down and she smelled ripe as hell.

Benny watched him, shifted the girl in his arms when she twitched. “What do we do with her?”

“Hospital?” Sam suggested, shrugging. “We’re not exactly equipped -”

“She might know something.”

Sam barked a laugh, shaking his head. “You think Victor is gonna send her here with information we can use? She’s a distraction, Dean. He’s up to something.”

Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stared at the girl and then glanced at his brother. “Either way, she’s our problem. At least for the time being.” He paused, motioning for Benny to head out. “Get her in the car.”

“Where the hell are you gonna take her?” Sam laughed, stunned at his brother’s actions. “Home?” Dean didn’t answer and Sam groaned, rolling his eyes. “Dean, she’s torn up.”

A smile tugged at his brother’s lips. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”

*****

Your week had gone downhill quicker than you anticipated. Monday brought storm warnings and lashings of rain - you’d been soaked when you arrived at work. The workload was ridiculous, thanks to your lazy boss, and by the time lunch rolled around, you were counting down the hours until home time.

Your father called when you were five minutes from the end of your break and you stuffed the rest of your sandwich into your mouth before answering. “Hello?” you greeted, the sound muffled by chewing.

“ _Hey, sweetie_.”

You rolled your eyes. Your father only tended to call if he wanted something. Usually money and you didn’t have any to give. “Dad, I’m broke, okay? I can’t bail you out anymore.” He’d used up the inheritance from your mother’s passing, despite the plans to buy a house which were now very much dust in the wind.

“ _No, honey, I’m not calling for that_ ,” he replied, sounding sad and you frowned. “ _I was wondering if you want to get out of town for a few days?_ ”

“Dad, it’s Monday. Even if I wanted to, I have to go to work.” Stuffing your lunchbox back into your bag, you brushed your skirt down, clearing the crumbs onto the floor. The sky was starting to cloud over again and you’d been lucky to find a dry spot to eat lunch in the first place. “I really need to get back.”

“ _Y/N, I really think -_ ”

“I don’t have time for this, Dad. Whatever drama you have, call Gus.” You hung up the call and shoved the phone into your bag, rushing back just as the heavens opened. Drenched again, you slumped into work, finding a new pile of admin files on your desk. “Oh for fucks sake,” you growled, tossing a glare at Ian, the boss, sat drinking coffee at his desk.

By the end of the day, you were exhausted and wanted nothing more than a hot bath and bed. You headed home as quickly as you could, catching the number three from downtown towards your suburban apartment. The building was in sight, lit up against the night sky and you smiled, relieved to be home as you started fishing for the keys in your purse.

You never made it to the building.

Someone grabbed you from behind and that was when your week got really bad. A foul-smelling cloth was pressed against your face and you screamed, inhaling a lungful of the chemical that instantly knocked you out. Your assailant bundled you into a waiting van and it peeled away with squealing tires.

Nothing moved on the street. No one noticed the van or the abandoned keys on the pavement.

Waking up in a cold cell with only your flimsy work dress on was horrific. You were freezing, teeth chattering from the moment you woke, and you sat up, pinning yourself against the wall as you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

Who the hell had kidnapped you? Was it a joke? A trick?

Either way, you were trapped inside the tiny concrete room, the small door opposite you remaining stubbornly closed. There was one tiny slit of a window that showed you the cloudy night sky, but there was no other indication of where you were.

Footsteps echoed from somewhere beyond the door. You shuddered and waited, wondering if they’d come for you. They passed on by and it took long moments after for you to remember to breathe.

It was so cold. Your feet were almost changing color and you briefly wondered what had happened to your shoes or your purse. Would anyone even know you were missing? You didn’t exactly have a huge social circle, you avoided Facebook like the plague and crowds frightened you.

You hadn’t even had a boyfriend in months. Netflix and chill was more like Netflix and an early night.

Another set of footsteps walked past and your stomach growled loudly. You tucked your arms around your belly, leaning back against the wall, trying to think about anything besides being cold. It was enough to force your eyes closed and you drifted, somewhere between awake and unconscious, barely noticing when the door opened.

Light covered your face and made you raised a shaking hand. “Get up,” a gruff voice ordered.

“Who are you?” you choked out, only succeeding in angering your visitor. He stomped over, giving you a look at his face and you shrieked, trying and failing to get away. Big hands clasped your forearms and dragged you out of the cell with no gentleness at all.

The man was huge, at least six feet, covered in scars and tattoos. He had no hair and one eye was completely white - he reminded you of the orcs in the Lord Of The Rings. You fought against his hold as hard as you could, but your attack had all the effect of a mosquito at a window.

Dragging you down the corridor, he pushed you through a door into a warmer but no less frightening room. The concrete walls in here were cleaner and the floor was covered in plastic which you found odd. Chains hung from the ceiling with heavy shackles attached to them and you realized that was your destination.

Your screams of protest did nothing and the man hung you from the chains, letting your feet brush the floor but not giving you enough leverage to support your weight. You dangled from the chains, sobbing now as the man stood back and inspected you.

He pulled a switchblade from his pocket and opened it. A terrified shriek left your throat and you begged him not to hurt you, the pleas falling on deaf ears. Stepping forward, he methodically removed your clothing, stripping you bare, all the while ignoring your cries for him to stop.

When he was done, you couldn’t speak anymore although you tried. You gasped and choked on tears, shame filling you as you hung nude in front of this stranger. He tilted his head, lifting one hand to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers as it hardened.

Your body responded against your will and the man grinned, pressing the knife to the swell of your breast, cutting into the skin enough to let blood well up and slide down over your boob.

 _Just kill me_ , your mind pleaded, but all you could do was whimper in pain and look up at him with crusty, swollen eyes.

The man turned away, moving to the corner of the room where a table of utensils set. He placed the knife down and looked back, pulling a phone from his pocket. He held it up, grunted “smile, sweetheart” and took a picture, capturing your shame forever.

“Daddy sends his regards,” the man grunted, pocketing the phone again. He left the room, abandoning you and you let your head fall back as consciousness slipped away.


	2. Chapter 2

She hadn’t moved.

Dean had given up his bedroom for her, leaving her in the care of his mother. Mary had been concerned that she would need a hospital, but Dean had dismissed her worries and told her to clean the girl up. He needed a photo of her face to try and track her relatives.

Sam was equally concerned about the girl’s presence in their home. It was the one secure place they had left; the deal with Victor was supposed to settle all the turf squabbles, but now he’d shafted them. Dean was pissed, but Dean was also a soft-touch on women, especially damsels in distress.

Whatever had happened to the girl hadn’t been pleasant. Victor could have had her forever for all they knew. She’d obviously been beaten and mistreated - Sam wouldn’t be surprised if she’d been assaulted in other ways too. She might not even be coherent when she woke.

“It’s been nearly a day,” Mary whispered, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. “With the severity of her injuries…” The Winchester matriarch sighed and her eldest son stared at the closed door. “Dean, she might have a head injury we don’t know about. She needs professional medical care.”

“No. Not until -” he started but his mother cut him off.

“There might not be an ‘until’, Dean,” she warned and Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “At least let me call Ketch.” Dean’s jaw clenched and he turned away, stalking towards the stairs with hunched shoulders. “I know you don’t like him,” Mary called after him, “but he’s the best damn doctor in town and you know it.”

“Fine!” Dean growled out. “But for the record, I don’t trust him.”

Mary shook her head, returning to the bedroom as her son stomped down the stairs into the lounge. Sam was sat with his feet up, drinking a beer as he watched a documentary on television. Dean came to a stop at the back of the couch.

“Nothing to do?” he sneered and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Not at this second,” the younger Winchester replied. “Trail’s cold, Dean. Benny and Jack are still out looking but it’s a waste of time. Victor ghosted, like he always does.” His brother ground his teeth together, clenching his fingers into the back of the couch. Sam shrugged and looked back at the television. “Any progress on finding out who she is?”

Dean walked around the sofa, dropping onto the cushions heavily. “No. Whoever she is, she’s squeaky clean. No match on the prints or anything close to a photo id. Garth and Charlie were still working on it, but it’s like this chick doesn’t even have a digital footprint.”

Sam scoffed. “Come on. Even Mom has Facebook.”

“She thinks I should take her to a hospital,” Dean sighed, cradling his hands in his lap. “She’s calling Ketch.” His brother groaned. “I know, I know. Pompous British asshat. But Mom’s right. He’s the best doctor we know. And he won’t talk.”

Rolling his shoulders, Sam sat up, looking over at his brother seriously. “I called Eileen.”

Dean frowned. “You what?”

“She’s a grief counsellor, Dean. She’ll be able to help if the girl’s traumatized. Which, knowing Victor, she will be.”

“Yeah, I thought about that,” Dean grumbled back. “I don’t like having so many people involved. It’s dangerous. And Eileen’s…” He met his brother’s eyes. “She’s someone you care about, Sam. I don’t want you to lose someone else to all this.”

Sam grinned and slapped his brother’s knee. “I’ll be fine. Eileen will be fine. As far as Victor’s concerned, he’s paid you, even if he stiffed you on the cash. We could drop it but…”

“Not happenin’,” Dean growled.

“Thought so,” Sam grunted, getting to his feet. “I’m gonna get another beer.”

*****

You didn’t know how long you’d been hanging there but your arms were completely numb and your body felt like a block of ice. Someone had come into the room, watching you from the shadows; you didn’t have the energy to speak or even cry, let alone lift your head.

Your visitor didn’t speak. When it became apparent they weren’t going to do anything, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the hunger clawing at your insides and the cold that felt like it was in your bones.

At some point, someone touched you.

You’d stopped caring.

The shackles came undone with a click and you expected, in your haze, to hit the floor. When your back didn’t collide with the rough surface, you thought for a moment that you’d died, but instead you were laid on a stretcher and removed from the room.

Concrete corridors became decorated halls and the light was too bright for your aching eyes so you kept them shut, curling in on yourself. Whoever was pushing the stretcher didn’t say anything, continuing on their path. Eventually, you came to a stop and everything was silent for a few moments.

A hand stroked over your forehead. “Not again,” a feminine voice muttered and seconds later, the hand was replaced by a soft washcloth. You moaned and the hand was on your shoulder now, frustratingly warm on your cold skin. “Hold still, honey, I’m gonna clean you up, okay?”

You didn’t give an inch of resistance, letting your unknown rescuer wash you down, not missing a single patch of skin. When her hand brushed against your inner thigh, you drew into a ball, frightened of what could happen. She didn’t say anything but she moved away, not touching you again for a few moments.

Curiosity was pushing you to turn and open your eyes but fear of the unknown kept you immobile, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

The stranger touched you again, trying to coax you onto your back. “I’ve gotta check that cut, baby.” She spoke to you like a small child and you let her move your body, hesitating a glance into the bright light. When you finally convinced your eyes to open, the woman was framed in light, looking every inch like an angel.

She smiled at you.

“Hey, sugar.” You licked at your lips, finding your throat to dry to speak and she frowned in sympathy. “Don’t try that, darlin’. I’ll get you some water and somethin’ to eat, okay?” Managing a nod, you watched her as she bustled away, collecting something from across the room. It looked like a library - books lined the shelves and a huge mirror hung from one wall. You were glad you couldn’t see what you looked like.

The woman returned and helped you to sit up, supporting you as you took a small sip of water and coughed violently.

“Slow down, baby,” she drawled, her accent becoming a little clearer.

You took a few more sips, clearing your throat and gasping at the soothing liquid cooling your scratchy esophagus. When you felt able, you spoke, your voice thicker than you were used to. “Where am I?”

Her face changed, closing off. “Don’t you worry about that. I’m Carla.”

“Don’t worry?” you whispered. “I was kidnapped. That man -”

“Sweetheart,” Carla interrupted, touching your face. “You’ll understand. Right now, we need to get some food into you and you need some decent sleep.” You scowled at her as she got up, hating the lack of information. For a moment, you considered hurting her and escaping, but you didn’t think you could win a fight with a leaf right now.

“Can I go home?” you asked hesitantly.

Carla didn’t reply, picking up a tray and placing it on the table. “Do you think you can walk? I’ve got some salve that will help the ache in your arms.”

“Why won’t you answer my questions?” you demanded, slowly swinging your legs off of the stretcher. You were all too aware of your continued naked state. “Can I have some clothes?”

“Of course,” she answered, turning a smile on you and completely ignoring your first question. Heading for a closet across the room, she pulled out a cotton robe and brought it over to you, helping you slip it over your shoulders. “That better?”

“It’ll do,” you grumbled, tightening the robe around your middle, still feeling the cold.

The other woman grinned and led you to the table, pulling out your seat. “Eat up. It’ll make you feel better.” Carla’s bright smile was disconcerting and you eyed the stew in the bowl in front of you, wondering if it was poisoned. “It’s safe,” Carla prompted.

Deciding that poison was probably better than what you’d experienced so far, you started to eat, enjoying the thick wintery taste of the stew. Carla watched like a hawk, taking the seat opposite you. When you were done, you pushed the bowl away.

“Will you answer my questions now?” you asked quietly and Carla’s expression crumpled. “That man said ‘Daddy sends his regards’. Did he mean my father?”

“I can’t tell you anything,” Carla whispered, her shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I just can’t.”

You blinked at her, placing your hands flat on the table. “How do you know my name?”

“I was told,” the other woman mumbled. “But I can’t tell you anything else.” Her eyes dropped to the table. “It’s more than my life is worth.”

“What about my life?” you squeaked. Carla stood up, ignoring your question again. “Hey, where are you going?” The other woman looked back at you sadly, pausing at the door.

“Try and get some rest,” she urged before knocking on the door. It unlocked from the outside and opened, the huge beast of a man who’d cut you looming in the doorway. He glared at you and you shrank back, watching the door close behind Carla, locking again.

You looked around at the room. There was a bed in the middle, large but not fancy. A bedside table and what looked like restraints. With a shudder, you returned to the stretcher, catching a glimpse of yourself in the big mirror. God, you looked awful. Sunken eyes, bags that could fit a week of groceries underneath… your hair was a mess, matted with god knows what.

And you were tired. More bone-weary  than you’d ever felt in your life.

Deciding against the bed with the restraints, you curled up back on the stretcher, intending on resting but not sleeping.

Five minutes later, you were out cold.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: This chapter contains explicit and graphic descriptions of sexual assault and rape. It will be marked in bold so you can skip it if necessary.**

Sam was cleaning his gun when Dean got up the next morning, venturing into the kitchen. The younger Winchester looked up, frowning at him. “Late night?” he asked, putting the empty chamber down, dropping the cloth on top of it. “You look wrecked, man.”

“Caught three of Victor’s boys trying to rob the McDonalds again,” Dean yawned, shuffling to the coffee pot. “I don’t know what time I got back.”

“Well, our guest isn’t awake,” Sam informed him, leaning his elbows on the table. “Ketch said there’s no evidence of brain trauma. He’s not sure about internal bleeding and he said she’d been raped.” Dean cringed, nausea curling in his stomach. “She needs a hospital, Dean.”

The coffee was more bitter than usual as it slid down his throat and Dean drained the entire cup without a care for the burn. When he was done, he dropped his mug into the sink. “Did he say she’d die?” he asked, not looking at his brother.

Sam’s shoulders dropped. “He said it’s likely. She’d been used like a punching bag. He said her breathing was fine but it doesn’t mean she isn’t drowning in her own blood.” The coffee threatened to surge back up from Dean’s belly. He’d seen some awful things in the life they lived but it always got to him when it was an innocent that got hurt. Moreso a child or woman.

He felt like he failed every time he didn’t stop Victor or some other goon killing a person that didn’t deserve it. Dean was a criminal - he’d never dispute that, with a record as long as the Golden Gate Bridge - but he tried to help out the people that needed it.

It was why he’d made the damn deal with Victor in the first place. The guy they’d robbed was trafficking in children and he’d paid the price for using their city as a base of operations. Dean had intended for his share of the money to go to the Lawrence Children’s Hospital, but hell if it hadn’t all been a stitch up.

Sam had warned him.

And now, this poor girl.

Was she Dean’s fault? Did his blind stupidity put him here? For trusting that Victor was doing something  _ good _ in dealing with a pedophile?

He should have known. He should have known that Victor was only interested in putting a competitor out of business, but with this girl, he’d sealed Dean’s compliance. Dean had to find out who she was, what she knew. And for that, he needed her to live.

“Call Jody,” he growled, slamming his fist onto the countertop. “Make sure it’s anonymous. She needs guarding. As soon as she’s out of danger, she comes back here. Make sure she doesn’t talk to anyone.”

Sam sighed, getting to his feet and putting his gun back together. “Got it. Anything else?”

Dean turned, staring him out. “You wanna drop the attitude?” he asked and Sam sneered at him. “What the hell is your problem, Sam?”

“There was a different solution to all this,” Sam ground out. “You could have let me deal with it. Now, we’re dealing with  _ this. _ ” He pointed up the stairs angrily. “Why don’t you do your dirty work, seeing as you’re the one who led us here?”

“You really think the justice system would have locked that guy up? He had  _ money _ , Sam. He woulda bought his way to a light sentence and a cushy jail cell. No matter the evidence. I did what  _ had _ to be done.” Dean folded his arms across his chest. “We’re supposed to be a team on this, Sam.”

“We are,” Sam replied, hunching his shoulders. “I’m not looking to challenge you for head of the table. You know that. Neither of us sit there.” Dean watched him - he wasn’t lying. The head of the Winchester table would remain empty forever, as a mark of respect for their father.

John Winchester was a ghost over all of them but most of all their mother. Mary had been behind bars when John was murdered. She’d never been able to say goodbye or attend the funeral. Since she’d been let out a couple of years before, Mary had kept her head down, out of the family business or at least, out of the violent side.

“Then what’s up your ass?” Dean asked, shrugging.

“You’re nearly forty,” Sam commented, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you ever think about family?”

Dean’s face scrunched up. “We got family, Sam. You got Eileen. We’ve got Mom, Cas, Benny, hell, Jack’s a Winchester by name if not blood.”

“I mean love, Dean. Family with a woman. Kids. Marriage.” Dean snorted at his brother’s reply, shaking his head and heading for the door. “Dean -”

“I’m gonna go get the girl. Why don’t you get the car?”

*****

**_Graphic non-consensual content ahead -_ **

An abrupt return to consciousness occurred when a hand wrapped around your ankle, sliding up your leg. Your eyes snapped open and you struck out, only to have your hit blocked by a meaty fist.

The man from the cell.

He grinned and you screamed, fighting back with renewed strength; strength that didn’t pose a threat to him in the slightest. His foul breath was in your face and you screamed louder, tears streaming down your face.

With little effort, he picked you up, manhandling you across to the bed with the restraints and you fought harder, your fruitless punches hitting solid flesh. He dropped you onto the mattress and turned away, giving you an opportunity to bolt. The man grunted, catching you before you reached the door.

It swung open and three more men entered. All of them were huge. The first one in was a muscular blonde with three teeth missing and a tattoo on his neck that spelled out “DEATH”. Behind him, a dark-skinned man with a shaved head and styled facial hair. His blue eyes bore into you hungrily and you staggered back, your original assailant capturing you in his strong arms.

The third man who entered was slightly shorter but no less intimidating. He wore a crisp suit and had a smart haircut, dark hair standing out on pale skin. This man smiled at you, just as a hand clapped over your mouth.

“I thought I told you to restrain her, Dwayne?” the man in the suit snapped, his tone clipped. “Get her on the bed.” Dwayne dragged you backward towards the mattress, your screams muffled by his meaty hand. The blond and the dark-skinned guy followed, hungry grins trained on you like a pack of wolves.

The man in the suit stood at the foot of the bed, smiling at you as the men tied your arms down. Your legs were spread, exposing your pussy as your robe was torn away, leaving nothing but shreds of material that floated to the ground.

“Y/N. Just so you know, this is nothing personal,” the man in the suit said as you sobbed against your captor’s palm. “You were payment of a debt in full.”

Payment? What the fuck did that mean?

“Now. Smile for the camera, darling,” the man said, directing the men towards you as he pulled his phone from his pocket. Your mouth was uncovered and you managed a cry of “no” before the blond man was kissing you roughly.

Fingers pried at your entrance, coaxing your body into unwilling arousal and you screamed into the man’s mouth as hard as you could. He scowled, lifting off of you and bringing his hand down across your face, knocking the wind out of you.

Two fingers were inside you now, roughly fucking into your tight channel, knuckles slamming into your pubic bone with each thrust. Tears streamed down your face as the blonde kissed you again, forcing his tongue between your lips.

The hand withdrew from between your legs and the bed dipped. When the blonde man drew back for breath, you saw Dwayne on your right side, his thick cock in his palm and way too close to your face than it ever should have been. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the most concerning problem.

Kneeling between your thighs with his hand wrapped around his dick, was the man with the strange blue eyes. His cock was monstrous, for lack of a better word; at least ten inches, thicker than your wrist and weeping precum that stood out against his dark skin.

“No,” you gasped, shaking and struggling as the blonde man grasped your head and turned it towards Dwayne’s rapidly approaching cock. The tip of the appendage between your legs brushed your pussy and you bucked, a final attempt to stop it from happening.

“Hold her steady, Grayson,” Dwayne snarled and the blonde man’s hands held your face with a tighter grip, two thick fingers pinching your nose to force your mouth open. The taste of sweat was the first thing you noticed, but your attention on the thick shaft pressing between your lips was nothing compared to the feeling of the one pushing inside your resistant body.

With a grunt, your rapist thrust into your slickening channel with one brutal stroke and you screamed, allowing Dwayne to sink his cock to the back of your throat. The noise cut off in a strangled groan as your gag reflex kicked in and you puked.

Dwayne didn’t seem to care, groaning as your throat constricted around him. Grayson stood back, freeing his cock from his pants and stroking it as his two companions fucked you into the mattress. Your eyes rolled back as you struggled to breath through the vomit in your nose.

“Keep her steady, boys,” the man in the suit drawled, recording from the bottom of the bed. “Marcus,” he snapped and the man between your legs grunted in response. “Make sure you cum inside her. Let her feel it.” Somehow, you managed to drag back off of Dwayne’s cock, shrieking in protest.

“No!” you cried, arching out of Dwayne’s reach. He snarled and fisted your hair, dragging you back toward his straining cock. “Please, don’t -” Dwayne forced his cock back into your mouth and your cheeks bulged, your lips struggling to extend enough to grant him deeper access.

“That’s it,” the man in the suit groaned, “make her choke on dick so Daddy can get off to it.”

Marcus chuckled, watching your face as Dwayne fucked it, bulging your throat out obscenely. “Look at what he’s done to his precious little girl.”

The words barely made it through the haze of unconsciousness beckoning you closer. Dwayne’s hand fisted in your hair, driving his cock deeper and you choked again, nothing to bring up as he reached his peak. Hot streams of cum spurted down your throat, warming your belly.

“Your turn,” Dwayne snarled and Grayson chuckled, naked from the waist down, hard length in his palm. He climbed onto the bed, straddling your chest and the man in the suit walked around to get a better angle. Grayson dropped his weight onto you, punching the air out of your lungs and cum dribbled down your chin.

His thumb pried your lips apart and you tried feebly to bite him, only making him laugh. “Do that and I’ll knock your fucking teeth out,” he snapped. “Bet that’d make your whore mouth feel great around my dick.” He forced your mouth open as you tried to scream, stuffing his cock between your lips and leaning over you, gripping the headboard with one hand. Your nose was crushed into his pubic hair and you felt like this was probably the worst way to die.

Marcus’ hands tightened on your hips and he snarled loudly, holding his thick shaft deep inside you as it pulsed, filling you with hot seed. He squeezed your ass, groaning as your pussy clenched his sensitive prick. “All that cum,” he murmured, pulling away to watch it dribble out onto the white sheets. “Oh, baby, I hope you’re on somethin’.”

Grayson was fucking you harder now and you were close to passing out. You closed your eyes just as he pulled away, giving you back oxygen as he came over your face and tits.

No one was touching you now and you didn’t know whether to sob, scream, or thrash in the restraints. The suited man was still recording, keeping the camera on you and making sure to take in every little shot of your cum-stained skin and abused cunt.

“Dwayne?” he muttered and the hulking man tucked his cock away, wiping his hands on his pants as he approached. The suit man handed the phone over so Dwayne could continue recording as Marcus unbuckled your ankles. “Now, my dear,” the suited man started, “you’re mine.”

“No,” you wailed, shaking your head as he kneeled between your legs, easily catching your feet as you tried to kick out at him. He laughed, pushing your legs up to your chest, exposing your pussy and asshole to his gaze. Cum trickled from your gaping hole, saturating your tight little rose and he groaned, pinning you down.

“Virgin ass,” he growled, stroking your asshole with his thumb and you cried out, arching and sobbing, tears soaking into your hair and pooling in the shell of your ear. “I love a tight little slut.” He unzipped his pants, freeing a cock that was just as sizable as his men’s were.

The tip of his prick rested against your ass and your eyes widened as you realized he was going to go in with only the cum for lube. It was enough for him but not enough to make it comfortable for you - not that you had any fantasy that he wanted you comfortable.

“You belong to me now, princess,” the suited man murmured. “You’ll do what I say, when I say, or you end up back here. The boys need a new whore toy to play with. Not that you’ll last long.”

He pushed against your twitching hole and you screamed, thrashing as hard as you could. Instantly, the henchmen were at your sides, holding you down and Marcus reached over, stuffing a gag into your mouth, muffling your sounds.

“Thank you, Marcus,” the suited man murmured before lining up with your ass. He penetrated you slowly, your body offering little resistance to his violation. You couldn’t see through the tears and couldn’t feel anything but the sting of his entry, the tearing of your ass. Blood mixed with cum and your rapist slid into you, bottoming out with a deep groan.

You wanted to pass out. You wanted anything but feeling this. Would they kill you when they were done with you? Toss your body into the river. Who the hell even were they? And was this… he mentioned your father…

The suited man didn’t take long, filling your bowels with cum as you whimpered around the gag. He pulled out abruptly, splattering cum and blood across the bed sheets as your legs collapsed flat. Accepting a cloth from Marcus, the suited man cleaned himself up, tucking his spent cock into his pants and taking his phone back off of Dwayne.

“Work her over, let her know what happens if she doesn’t do what she’s told. No fatal injuries, boys. I’ll deliver the message to her father.”

“Please,” you gasped as Marcus tugged the gag from your mouth, leaving the inside of your cheeks dry and scratchy. “Why are you doing this?”

The suited man stared at you with one arched eyebrow. “Your father owed me a lot of money. So much, it was his life or yours.” He tilted his head, smiling as his phone beeped loudly. “Once you’re done, clean her up and get her ready for delivery. Victor decided what to do with her after all.”


	4. Chapter 4

Soft pillows cradled your head and you breathed through your nose slowly, unsure whether to open your eyes or not. Had it been a bad dream?

Was that wishful thinking?

You couldn’t feel any pain. More like a numbness that made it feel like you were floating a few inches in the air. Moving your head the slightest amount made your stomach roll and you groaned, opening your eyes slowly.

It looked like a hospital room. There was a large window, sunlight filtering in through the blinds and as you tried to sit up and see more, a blonde woman walked in through the door, smiling at you. She had a coffee in her hand and a paper bag in the other.

“You’re awake!” she exclaimed, putting the coffee and bag down on the nearest flat surface, which happened to be a chair. Approaching, she reached out and you flinched, frightened of what she was going to do. “Hey, hey,” she soothed. “You’re safe now. I promise.”

“Where -” You swallowed, wincing at your dry throat. “Where am I?”

The woman smiled and pressed the button above the bed. “I’m just calling the doctor, okay?” You nodded, watching her warily. “My name’s Mary,” she offered. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you replied quietly. “That place -”

“Do you remember anything?”

Your voice stuck in your throat and you managed a nod, tears filling your eyes. At that moment, someone new walked into the room, a tall man with dark hair. Mary stood straight and looked over at him.

“Arthur,” she greeted. “Look who’s awake.”

The doctor smiled, picking up the clipboard at the end of your bed. “And looking very good,” he murmured, casting his eyes over your vitals. “At least, now you’re awake, we can check for any evidence of head trauma.” You blinked, frowning at him. “Mary, maybe you should leave us to it -”

“No!” you cried out. You didn’t know Mary at all but in a few minutes, you felt like you wanted her to stay. Mary frowned and glanced at the doctor, who shrugged. “Please, stay.”

“Okay,” Mary nodded, remaining at your side. “I’ll stay, sweetie.”

Dr. Ketch was professional, if a little cold with his bedside manner. He’d assured you that you were in no danger from any infections and your injuries were all slowly healing. You’d been in hospital for a week and you realized after he’d left that you had no idea what the date was.

“Mary?” you asked, picking at the small plate of food a nurse had brought you. The blonde woman looked up at you and you smiled hesitantly. “Dr. Ketch said I’d been here for a week. How long… I don’t know how long I was… there.”

You were trying not to think about where you were. It was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened, for now. Eventually, you’d have to process but now, you had immediate questions. Mary leaned forward a little.

“It’s April 4th, Y/N.”

“April 4th,” you repeated quietly, counting back. “Seventeen days.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” Mary whispered, taking your hand and you nodded, barely hearing what she said. “We’re gonna figure out who did this. I promise.”

Looking at her hand holding yours, you bit into your bottom lip. “I don’t know anything about you.” Mary’s hand tightened on yours and she smiled. “And I have a lot of questions.”

“Ask away. I’ll tell you whatever I know.”

*****

The hospital was eerily quiet at night. Eventually, Mary had been kicked  out by the nurses and without Dr. Ketch to approve her staying, you were left alone. You felt safe with the nurses visible in the hallway, or safer than you would have without them, and you managed a few hours of peaceful sleep.

You had no idea how late it was when a man slipped into your room, taking a seat opposite your bed, watching over you like a guard. When you stirred and woke, you sat up with some difficulty, spotting him and letting fear drive your initial reaction.

“It’s okay,” the man murmured. “I’m Dean.”

The mention of the name made you calm. Dean didn’t move and you watched him for a moment, unable to see his face in the darkness. “You can come and sit over here if you’d prefer,” you whispered and Dean raised hand.

“I’m good here, sweetheart. Go back to sleep. You’re safe.”

You sighed and laid down, thinking back over the information Mary had given you. Dean was her son and she’d told you all about him. Probably not all of it; she’d hinted at a family business that didn’t sound very family-friendly. She had another son, Sam, and her husband was gone.

They thought they knew who had done this to you. You’d told her what you remembered and the men’s names and she’d passed all your information on to her sons. They were looking for your father and a mysterious “Victor”.

Moments ticked by and you couldn’t get back to sleep. Sitting up, you adjusted your bed and looked right at Dean. “I can’t sleep,” you announced and Dean looked up, meeting your eyes. He got to his feet, moving over to the chair that Mary had been occupying.

In the light of the machines by your bed, you could see his features, illuminated by greens and blues. You couldn’t quite tell what color his eyes were but he was handsome as all hell, even if he looked like he couldn’t crack a smile to save his life.

“How are you feeling?” he asked and you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

“Physically… not so bad. Might be the morphine,” you quipped.

Oh, look at that. Dean could smile.

The crinkles in the corners of his eyes just drew your attention to how green they looked in the lamplight. He looked tired and you suddenly wondered how old he was. Late thirties, maybe?

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” he murmured suddenly and you shook your head. You’d never heard the name Winchester, at least, not in any capacity that mattered. Current news events usually bypassed you in your quiet, isolated life. Most of your friends were online, scattered across the world. “Did my mom tell you anything?”

You nodded then, circling your thumbs around each other nervously. “She told me about you and your brother. That you were trying to find the people that did this to me.” Lowering your voice, you squeezed your eyes shut. “You were hoping I’d remember something.”

“We were,” Dean confirmed and you sighed, keeping your eyes closed. “Do you remember anything?”

“I remember their names. What they looked like. They,” you sucked in a breath, your entire body shuddering, “recorded it. Everything. What they did to me.” Dean remained silent and you opened your eyes to look up at the bare wall opposite your bed. “I don’t think that’s going to be much help.”

He leaned back in his chair, obviously thinking, and you hazarded a glance at him. “We’re gonna find them,” he promised. “I’m sorry this happened to you. This should… it should never happen to anyone.”

“I can’t go home, can I?” you whispered.

Dean shook his head, his expression neutral. “I’m sorry. If you don’t stay with me, there’s a chance they’ll find you again, a good chance, and I’m not about to let that happen.”

One captor to another. Your life as you’d known it was over. How had you ended up here?

“The man… the man in the suit who recorded it,” you whispered. “He said this was my dad’s fault. That my dad… gave me to them. To pay off a debt.”

Dean swallowed and nodded, his eyes filling with rage, although you didn’t know for what. He didn’t know you from a random person on the street, so what reason would he have to care if you had the world’s shittiest father. “We know. That much we found out when we had your name.”

“What did you do?” you asked, regretting the question instantly.

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Yet. That’s up to you. We know where he is.”

You swallowed, blinking away tears. “What would you do?” The question hung in the air and Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “If this happened to you…”

“You don’t have anyone else, do you?” It was a very blunt and direct way of asking it, but the phrase was not a lie. You had no one beyond a few casual acquaintances. For long years, you’d cared for your mom and put life on the backburner like she had for you growing up. She’d had no one else. Now, it seemed you’d found the same fate.

“No,” you confirmed, suspecting that Dean was all too aware of it.

He nodded, watching you for a moment. “If it were up to me?” You nodded, holding your breath. “I’d tear him limb from limb and make sure he suffered for betraying blood that way. He’s supposed to be the one who protects you.”

The tears couldn’t be held back anymore and you slid further down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling and pulling the blankets up. Dean’s eyes were full of sympathy but the rage still lurked in his expression, tempered for now.

“I’ve never had anyone to protect me,” you admitted, sniffing loudly.

Dean’s hand touched yours and made you roll your head towards him. “You do now,” he promised quietly, squeezing your fingers. “Get some rest. Someone will be here when you wake up.”


	5. Chapter 5

You figured out early on that Dr. Ketch was an associate of the Winchesters and apparently close to Mary. She’d returned to the hospital, replacing Dean, who slipped out as the sun came up. Dr. Ketch had checked in around noon, informing you that you were being discharged.

Of course, you weren’t free. Going home wasn’t an option. You were either kept by Dean or the men who’d kidnapped you in the first place would take you back.

You never wanted to consider that.

Mary stepped out to make a call, and thirty minutes later there was a knock on the door. A tall man with long hair entered, smiling at you and Mary. “Hey, mom,” he greeted and you realized that he must be Sam. Mary hugged him and turned to you. “Y/N. Nice to see you awake.”

“Thank you,” you replied, managing a smile. “You must be Sam.”

Sam nodded, grinning before looking back at his mom. “Dean asked me to come by and pick you guys up,” he murmured, holding out a bag to Mary. “I got some clothes and things for you,” Sam directed his speech towards you now and you lifted your head as Mary reached over to give you the bag. “I had to guess your size so they’re probably a little big. We can stop at Walmart on the way back.”

You pulled the sweats and shirt out of the bag, finding a pair of sneakers at the bottom. “This is good,” you whispered, “and thank you.”

Mary touched Sam’s shoulder. “I thought Dean was coming back?” she asked, frowning.

“Yeah, uh, something came up.” Sam ran a hand through his thick hair, glancing away and you somehow knew whatever the something was, it wasn’t good. “I’ll go wait in the car, okay?”

By mid-afternoon, you were stood in the foyer of the Winchester house. It was probably the grandest house you’d ever been in and you stared up at the huge staircase, wondering not for the first time what exactly the Family Business was.

“This way,” Mary whispered, smiling at you and you followed her up the marble steps to the first floor of the house. “This was my grandfather’s house. One of the first built in this area.”

“It’s… big,” you replied, gazing around at the paintings and portraits on the walls. “I wouldn’t wanna clean it.”

Mary laughed. “It’s not so bad. Keeps me busy.”

“Don’t you work in the, er, family business?” you asked and she shook her head, a sad light in her eyes.

“No. I retired.” It was a short explanation but you knew there was more to it. “I’m here most of the time, painting if I’m not cooking.” She looked at you with interest. “Do you have any hobbies? I want you to be comfortable while you’re here.”

You shrugged, looking down at the floor, admiring the black and white rugs that line the corridor Mary was leading you down. “I like to read. I sometimes write, I guess. Movies. Things like that. I’m… I’m pretty boring.” A sigh left you. “What if I don’t ever get to go home?”

Mary stopped, taking your hand. “You are not our prisoner, Y/N. You’re not gonna be locked in here, but we do have to protect you. Victor Karson is a dangerous man.” She smiled, squeezing your fingers. “You’ll be safe here but you are not a captive.”

Not a captive. You wanted to believe that. But you doubted you’d be free to go anywhere. Nodding at her, you smiled and she gestured to the next door.

“This is your room,” she said, tugging you towards the door and opening it. The inside was the same design as the rest of the house, huge ceilings and long windows that made rays of sunshine dance in the air. “If there’s anything you need, just let me know. I’m normally downstairs in the studio or one of the boys will be hanging around.”

“Do you,” you paused, biting your lip, “do you mind if I have some time alone?”

“Sure,” Mary nodded. “Go and get yourself settled in. Benny already hauled your stuff up from the car.” She touched your cheek softly, giving you an affectionate smile. “I’ll come get you for dinner.”

*****

It felt odd. Like a hotel room. The things you’d bought were in their bags on the huge bed and for a little while, you explored. Outside the window, the street was lined with houses much like this one and you couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.

How could your father have done this to you?

The betrayal cut deeper than you’d imagined it would. You’d never been close and he’d never been the sort of dad to… well, be there at all. He only came sniffing back when your mom was sick, reconciling for display purposes only.

He’d almost cost you your life. Maybe it wasn’t much of a life, but it was yours and now it was gone. You wouldn’t have a job or an apartment to go back to.

The tears came swiftly and you sank into a spot on the bed, curling up into a ball. A few aches and pains remained from your ordeal, superficial injuries, but the emotional anguish ran deep, exacerbated by your hopeless situation.

What did Victor expect Dean to do with you? The same as what they had done? Certainly there was something dangerous about the Winchesters, but they didn’t seem to have that in mind. Dean felt like a good man to you, even with the very little time you’d spent with him.

Eventually, you stopped crying and decided to go through the bags of purchases from Walmart. Mary had been insistent on getting you absolutely everything you needed and you’d tried not to look at the bill. You kept to functional clothing - jeans, sneakers, t-shirts. Some of the items you assumed Mary had slipped into the cart because you didn’t recall picking them out.

It took a while to organize the room and you figured it would start to feel like home eventually. The ensuite bathroom alone was nicer than your whole apartment, so it wasn’t a bad start to life in relative captivity.

You took opportunity of said ensuite and took a shower, washing your hair thoroughly, feeling like you could finally wash away anything left on you from your experience. They’d let you bathe at the hospital but it wasn’t the cleanse you needed and by the time you were out of the shower, your skin was itchy from where you’d scrubbed. Ignoring it, you located a hair dryer and started to sort out the mess your hair was in.

It was too long. You wanted to cut it but you doubted there were any scissors around.

A knock at the door dragged you from your spot in front of the mirror. Walking back into the adjoining bedroom, you opened the door, surprised to find Dean on the other side.

“May I come in?” he asked quietly and you smiled.

“It’s your house,” you replied, standing back to grant him access. You left the door open, unwilling to shut it and be completely alone with this stranger.

“Technically, it’s my mother’s,” Dean murmured, looking around. “But even so, this is your room now. I’d expect anyone to knock.”

You smiled again, shaking your head at his gentlemanly manners. “It’s a very nice house,” you complimented and Dean snorted. “You don’t like it?”

“A little grandeur for my tastes,” he explained. “But it’s the family home and there’s plenty of room.” He gestured to the door. “Did Mom give you the tour?”

“There’s a tour?”

Dean nodded, a smile tugging at his lips and you couldn’t help but stare. Goddamn, he was handsome. You didn’t feel like you had the right to be standing in a room with someone so pretty. Not that you’d ever say that out loud. “There’s a tour. It’s better when Sam does it - he knows all the history of this place. But I can tell you exactly where I gave him his first wedgie.”

You giggled and nodded. “Let me put some shoes on.”

“Good plan. It rained earlier so the gardens will be a little muddy,” Dean mused, wandering over to the window. “They should have given you a room at the back of the house. I suppose Mom wants you close. She’s pretty fond of you.”

Locating your sneakers, you pulled the tags off, slipping them onto your feet. You never bothered with laces, tucking them into the side. “She’s wonderful,” you agreed, standing straight. “I…” You stopped, not wanting to make your sob story even worse.

“I’m sorry,” Dean muttered, looking back at you. “I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.”

“You - you know about my mom?” you asked and he nodded. “How?”

“When we got your name, we were thorough, trying to find anyone who could help. Family, friends -” You glanced away sadly, cupping your hands in front of you. “We dug up a lot of information. Your mother’s details were on there. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“I survived,” you shrugged. “I always seem to.”

Dean smiled a little wider, stepping into your personal space. You flinched and he realized instantly what he’d done, jumping back. “Shit,” he cursed, “I’m an idiot, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, hugging yourself. “I’m just… getting used to people.”

“Still, I’m sorry. Shit, now I’m just apologizing and cursin’ all over the place. Making a great impression.” Dean chuckled and held out a hand towards the door. “How about I give you this tour and we can go see what Mom’s cookin’ up for dinner?”

*****

The house was more extensive than you could have possibly imagined. Dean showed you the inside first, the essential rooms you needed to know about. Your first stop was the immense kitchen, black marble counter tops with more cupboards than you’d ever seen in a house. The fridge was like one of those huge ones you saw on MTV Cribs once upon a time and Mary was busy at the island, mixing something in a bowl.

“Hey, sweetie,” she greeted, accepting the kiss Dean dropped on her cheek. “Y/N, how you findin’ the place?”

You stuttered, barely managing a syllable before Dean interrupted. “We haven’t really gotten started on the tour yet, Mom,” he grunted, peering into the oven. “What’s for dinner?”

“Pot roast,” she replied. “And pie for dessert.”

His eyes lit up. “Pie?”

“I figured Y/N might like a decent meal after the hospital food she’s been forced to endure,” Mary informed him, smiling over at you. You smiled back, clasping your hands in front of yourself. “But it’s gonna be about an hour before anything’s ready. I’ll send Benny to find you when it’s done.”

Dean grinned and nodded, moving towards the door at the other side. “Shall we start in the den?” You nodded and followed him, waiting until he’d shut the door to say anything. The corridor you moved into was smaller than the others, leading to another heavy wooden door at the other end.

“Benny lives here too?”

He shrugged, grinning back at you. “We tend to pick up a lotta waifs and strays,” he chuckled. “Everyone’s lived here at some point. There’s only me, Mom and Sam otherwise. Place is huge.”

“Which category do I fall into?” you asked, smiling. “Waifs or strays?”

Dean shrugged, an indiscernible expression on his face. “You’re more like an honored guest,” he quipped, opening the door ahead. “Now, this is usually referred to as the man-cave but I think Mom uses it more than anyone else.” He held the door open for you and you stepped into the large room, a low ceiling this time and filled with plush couches, a pool table and a huge entertainment system on one wall. It was more like a cinema than a home set-up and you stared in awe. “What do you think?”

“It’s bigger than my whole apartment,” you gushed and Dean smiled.

“Well, we got all the movie channels, documentaries at Sam’s insistence, and if you don’t wanna watch anything that’s on in here, we’ve got another tv in the lounge that no one ever uses, all set up the same.” He shoved his hands into his pockets as you wandered over to look at the impressive bluray collection on the shelves next to the television. “Did Mom give you the wifi password?”

You shook your head. “I don’t have a phone or laptop anymore. Everything is back at the apartment…”

“I’ll take care of it,” Dean dismissed. “Unless, you’d prefer new ones?” Frowning, you looked at him as he avoided your eyes. “I know you’re gonna need more than what Sam got you. And we don’t know how long this is gonna take to sort out. I wanna make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Would -” You paused, wringing your hands together. “Would it be safe if you took me back to my apartment to get some things? My laptop has everything on it, irreplaceable documents, photos… but my phone was in my purse and I lost it when -”

He was suddenly in front of you, one hand on your shoulder and you found yourself oddly calmed by the touch. No one had really touched you since the hospital and Dean should have been ringing alarm bells, being so close to you but he didn’t.

You filed that information away for later processing. “We’ll get you a new phone and cancel your old one, okay? Don’t worry about a thing, Y/N.” He smiled and stepped back. “You wanna see the gardens?”

The gardens were through a back door of the corridor beyond the “man-cave” and the first thing you saw as you stepped out onto the vintage stone path was the huge arching conifers that covered the first few feet of the garden. As they gave way to a huge lawn, you saw neatly kept flower beds with blooms of all different colors.

“My mom’s the gardener,” Dean commented, leading you down the path that bisected the lawn into two unequal pieces. “She doesn’t really like hiring staff for this sort of thing and it keeps her busy.” He gestured over to the tree-line where there was a large woodchip play area with play equipment that looked rather old and unused. “That was our jungle gym growin’ up,” he chuckled. “I told Mom we should get a pool but -”

“Grandkids?” you guessed and Dean nodded. “Yeah, my mom used to go on about grandkids all the time.” A twinge of sadness hurt your chest.

Instead of continuing on a conversation path that would only inspire loss and pain, Dean changed the subject. “The garden actually goes way beyond the trees there. Years ago, the family was gonna build on it, but I guess my great-grandparents never got around to it.”

“And you didn’t?”

He laughed. “It’s not big enough for anything substantial. Maybe one day… got too much on my plate at the moment.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, looking down at the path, watching a ladybird make a break for it past your shoe. Dean looked up at the slowly darkening sky.

“Looks like it might rain. C’mon,” he started along the path and you followed, taking a few tiny steps to catch up to him, “I’ll show you the rest of the place.”


	6. Chapter 6

Strong arms were holding you down and you screamed, feeling hands part your bare thighs.

“No, no, no,” you squealed in alarm, thrashing against your significantly stronger captors. “Please, no, not again,” you begged but the man in the suit just smiled and kept going.

The intrusion was painful and violent and you screeched at the top of your lungs only to hear a feminine voice call your name. Softer hands touched your face and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of the suited man’s laughter as he violated you.

“Y/N,” the female voice called again. “You’re safe.”

 _Safe?_  How could you be safe?

Everything was becoming numb. You wanted nothing more than to die, to be absolved of this brutality you’d endured. Someone was stroking your face now and it was slowly the only thing you could feel. The touch was gentle and you focused on it, taking one last good thing with you.

Your eyes opened and Mary Winchester’s face swam into view, her concerned gaze slightly teary. “Y/N?”

“I’m… I’m still here…” You sat up and rubbed at your eyes. “I’m sorry, I -” The bedroom door was open and Dean lingered in the hallway, his face shadowed by the dim lights. “It was a nightmare.”

Mary smiled and rubbed your shoulder. “I thought as much. You were screaming.”

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized again, your voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t -”

“Sweetheart,” the older woman started, taking your hand. “Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” You managed a weak smile, nodding as your eyes flicked to Dean. He lifted his chin, smiling a little before moving away, obviously satisfied that his mother was dealing with it. “You wanna go get some hot chocolate? Might calm your nerves a little.

“Yeah,” you murmured, still watching the door. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

*****

It was like living on a knife edge. Each step brought you closer to danger but you never knew how close. Victor was somewhere out there and you had no choice but to stay with the Winchesters.

Dean was true to his word and took you back to your apartment, allowing you to collect some of your more personal belongings that couldn’t be replaced. He’d already presented you with a new phone and Sam had managed to recover your old contacts from your online account.

Additionally, he’d programmed in all the numbers he thought you’d need, including those of his other associates you’d met. That first night at dinner had been slightly overwhelming. Benny and Sam weren’t the only boys under the Winchester roof.

Castiel was the first you met. He was one of the oddest men you’d ever met; quiet and reserved and completely out of touch with other people. Sam had explained his behavior by informing you about his strict religious upbringing.

You’d met Benny before and he’d expressed happiness that you were recovering. It was a little uncomfortable knowing he’d seen you when you’d been found, but you managed to put it out of your mind. He’d lived in the Winchester house since his former girlfriend had decided she didn’t like his day job.

Or his night job.

The other occupant of the large house was Jack. He was an orphan, a kid destined for a life of petty crime and prison before Dean and Sam collared him and took him in. At sixteen, he was bright, attending a local college during the day. You suspected that he was involved in the “family business” which by now you’d figured out involved crime, drugs and gangs.

Asking about it seemed like a really good way to get yourself killed so you kept quiet.

They were all nice people, even if you suspected a darkness lay beneath each one of them. You’d noticed the relationship between Ketch and Mary, one that Dean didn’t seem too happy about. But the doctor had been nothing but nice to you despite his awful bedside manner. He’d even encouraged Sam’s suggestion that you meet his friend Eileen, a counsellor.

That hadn’t been going particularly well. Your desire to completely block out what had happened was overriding your decision to focus on the future. Eileen was lovely, warm, and she was trying the best she could, but you couldn’t bring yourself to revisit the trauma.

You left that to your nightmares, but the medication squashed them into the ground, leaving you refreshed each morning and completely ignorant to your own approaching burnout.

Today was the start of your fourth week with the Winchesters. It would also be the second time you left their house, on Mary’s insistence, for a shopping trip. The brave face you’d put on was holding steady as you journeyed around the mall with the older woman, picking out purchases and trying not to combust whenever Mary said something would look nice on you before instantly buying it.

You weren’t sure you’d ever owned such nice clothes.

Benny trailed behind, blending into the crowd in a rather startling manner. He joined you for lunch, looking to all the world like a friend Mary was meeting up with and the conversation changed to light chatter.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” you announced, wiping your mouth with a napkin and standing up. The southern gentleman was on alert instantly, his eyes going to the restroom entrance, twenty feet from the table. Mary’s eyes followed his and you smiled nervously. “I’ll only be a moment.”

Mary placed a hand on Benny’s arm and he relaxed slightly. “She’s fine,” she instructed and you nodded, heading off, aware of the hawk-like gaze on your back.

You sighed when you were finally alone in the bathroom stall, sitting for a little while and thinking. Taking forever wasn’t an option - Mary would come looking, or worse, Benny. And you really didn’t dispute that the Winchesters were generous hosts.

Captors.

Owners?

Were you even your own person anymore?

Finishing up, you emerged from the stall, surprised to see someone else in there. The tall red-head smiled at you with thick luscious scarlet lips, pearly white teeth sparkling between them. “Hi,” you squeaked, socially awkward as always. You turned to the sink, leaning down to wash your hands, oblivious to the woman’s movement.

Her hand grabbed the back of your neck and slammed your head down into the sink. You couldn’t scream due to the shock of the attack and you could smell her perfume as she leaned over you and pinned you down, the sharp glint of a blade millimeters from your face.

“We’re watching you, sweet one,” the woman purred, the knife pressing into your cheek as you whimpered in fright. The blade nicked your skin, leaving a thin trail of red that welled up a little when you winced. “This is just a token. Remind Dean you’re his. Serve him accordingly.” She shrugged, giggling as she released you. “Or… you’ll be serving my boys.”

You shuddered, clinging to the sink, trying not to vomit. The woman slapped your ass and you yelped, unable to stop yourself bursting into tears.

When you found the strength to lift your head, the woman was gone. The restroom door opened and instinct forced a scream from your throat. Mary raised her hands as she rushed towards you and your legs gave out. Benny tore in a split second later, followed closely by mall security.

“What happened?” Mary asked, smoothing your loose hair back from your face, inspecting the cut as you whimpered and sobbed. “Y/N?”

“A woman,” you managed. “She attacked me.”

“Did you recognize her?” Benny asked and you shook your head. He looked at the security guards with a scowl. “I need your security tapes.” His gaze went back to you. “What did she look like?”

“Benny!” Mary snapped, but he ignored her and you shuddered, remembering the woman’s beautiful yet cruel features.

“Tall. Red hair. Bright red lipstick,” you swallowed, “really pretty.” Mary’s eyes narrowed and Benny’s jaw clenched. “Who is she?” Mary helped you up and you clutched at her jacket. “Who is she, Mary?”

“Abaddon,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“Who’s Abaddon?” you demanded, looking up at Benny who ushered the security guards out of the way so Mary could assist you from the restroom.

The older woman sighed, shaking her head as she lead you toward the exit. “She’s Victor’s attack dog,” she murmured. “She doesn’t usually leave any witnesses.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at you, blood smeared across your cheek. “Did she say anything to you?”

Slowly, you nodded, keeping quiet until you reached the car. Benny was already in the driver seat, on the phone to someone- Dean, most likely. Grabbing Mary’s arm, you stopped her opening the door, not wanting the man to know what Abaddon had said.

“Abaddon,” you whispered, “she told me to… to remind Dean I’m his. T-that I should serve him accordingly.” Mary’s eyes widened and you felt fresh tears roll down your cheeks, mixing with the blood. “Or I’d be serving her boys.”

Benny opened the door, hanging up on his call and frowning at your tearful state. “We ready to roll, ma’am?”

Mary sighed, touching the uninjured side of your face softly. “Get in,” she murmured quietly and you nodded, letting her open the door for you before you crawled into the back seat, curling up against the door. Mary glared at Benny as she climbed in the front. “Stop calling me ma’am,” she grunted and Benny grinned, starting the engine.

You met Mary’s eyes in the mirror, returning her smile weakly. Somehow, you knew she wouldn’t let it happen to you again.


	7. Chapter 7

Since returning to the house, you’d locked yourself away in your room, shoving all your purchases to the back of the closet. Mary had cleaned your cheek, declaring that it didn’t need stitches before you’d run for the hills, refusing to come down for dinner.

It was dark when someone knocked on the door and you ignored it, only for the key to turn in the lock a second later.

Dean entered, frowning as he saw you sat in the middle of the bed, knees drawn up to your chest, surrounded in darkness. He shut the door and crossed the room, turning on the lamp, making you squint and glare at him. “When someone doesn’t say ‘come in’,” you drawled, “it generally means they don’t wanna be bothered.”

“What you want and what you’re getting are two different things, sweetheart,” Dean replied, sitting on the end of your bed, keeping a respectable distance between you.

“Like I don’t know that,” you spat. “I want to be at home. I want to be with my friends. God, I wanna be at work and I fucking hate that place.” A humorless laugh spilled from your lips, accompanied by a single tear that you wiped away furiously. “But I can’t do what I want to do because if I do, someone’s gonna pick me up off the street and… and…”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Dean insisted firmly and you met his eyes.

“Did your mom tell you?” you asked and the instant reaction in his expression told you that she had. “So my choice is to fuck you against my will or get fucked against my will. What would you pick?”

“Nothin’ is happening against your will,” he stood up, pointing at you, “I’m promising you that now. Victor doesn’t know what goes on here. We just… we just have to make sure that in public, you’re with me.”

You scoffed, stretching your legs out. “Great,” you snapped. “Because that’s not gonna cramp your style. I know what you do for a living, Dean.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at you before he drew a deep breath and walked over to the window.

“What is it you think I do, princess?”

Nervousness pooled in your belly as you kept your gaze on him, unable to ignore the curve of his ass in the tight jeans, or the way his shirt clung to his spine. You didn’t even know how old this guy was or anything about him. “You’re a criminal,” you whispered. “The Family Business, it’s like some Godfather thing.”

He chuckled at that, clasping his hands together behind his back. The movement pushed his broad chest out and when he turned, your eyes dropped to his crotch for a brief second before you looked away like a blushing school girl.

This was just because of what Abaddon said. You were not interested in Dean Winchester.

After everything, you didn’t think you’d want another man to touch you like that again. No matter what Eileen said, it didn’t feel like it would return to normal for you. Not right now.

“Godfather, huh?” Dean sat back down on the bed, the opposite side this time, smiling at you. “I loved those movies growing up.” You blinked at him, unsure what to make of his comment. “I think if we’re gonna have to spend a lot of time together,” he paused, the smile on his face unwavering, “we should get to know each other. Don’t you?”

“G-get to know each other?” you stammered, crawling up the bed to put a little more space between you and Dean frowned at the reaction.

“Not like that. I mean, lives. What you did for a living.” He sat straight. “And I’m an open book. You’re gonna see things while you’re here that will… probably freak you out. So if you have any questions, now is the time. I won’t lie to you.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you asked, suddenly, surprised by your own first question and Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Wife?”

He tilted his head, still chortling. “Is that really what you wanna know? I don’t, F-Y-I, but I didn’t think that’d be your first question.”

“Me either,” you admitted, fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt. “I thought I’d be more worried about how many people you’d killed.”

“Four,” he replied without batting an eyelid. You looked up at him, surprised more by his answer than you had been by your embarrassing question. Dean waited, not speaking as you tried to phrase your next question sensitively. When you came up with nothing, he smirked. “Wondering why the number is so low? You’re asking how many people I’ve personally killed. Four,” he repeated. “Now, if you’d asked how many people I’ve ordered killed…”

Your stomach churned. “I’m not so sure I want to know that after all,” you whispered meekly. “Could we go back to stupid questions?”

“Asking if I’ve got a girl in my life isn’t a stupid question. I mean,” he snorted, “it’d be hard to explain this situation, for one.” Lifting your chin, you eyed him closely and Dean pouted, looking concerned at your intense stare. “What?”

“What did you wanna be when you were a kid?” you asked and he froze. “Cat got your tongue?” you teased, trying to relax a little. Dean grinned, shaking his head and moving further onto the bed, crossing his legs like a teenage girl at a slumber party.

“Astronaut. What about you?”

You giggled. “A vet. But then I thought about having to put animals to sleep and…” A shudder ran up your spine. “I didn’t have the stomach for it.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah, you seem like that type of person,” he commented, his gaze softening. “Kind, giving,” he paused, sighing, “maybe a little too much?” It was a statement you knew to be true, but you didn’t say anything in return, avoiding his eyes. “My turn,” he announced, breaking the tension. “Favorite childhood holiday?”

*****

“How are you feeling today?”

Ketch’s sharp accent filled the kitchen as you sat opposite him, letting him check your blood pressure and draw some blood samples. You smiled pleasantly, still not entirely comfortable in the man’s presence. “Better,” you replied, hissing when the needle nicked your arm.

“Sorry,” he apologized, smiling. “This should be the last check. I’ll run the cultures over to the lab and let you know the results. After this, you shouldn’t have to see me again.”

“That’s good, right?” you asked, tilting your head and watching the door as he drew blood. You never had been able to stand having blood taken, but it was a necessity so you bit your lip and got on with it. Ketch grinned and nodded.

“Very good. You’ll still see me about though, so if you do have any other problems, just let me know.” He finished what he was doing and packed the samples into a case, smiling widely. “All done.” You rolled your sleeves down. “How is everything going with Miss. Leahy?”

With a nod, you avoided his gaze. “It’s good.”

“And the Winchesters are treating you well?” Ketch raised an eyebrow and you nodded again.

“Yeah, they’re,” you paused, “very hospitable. I just…”

“You want to go home,” he finished and you sighed heavily.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful -”

“You don’t,” Mary announced, walking into the room with a smile on her face. “It’s not an easy situation for anyone to be in.” She laid a hand on your shoulder, squeezing reassuringly as she looked down at you. “Are you staying for dinner, Arthur?”

Dr. Ketch got to his feet, packing away the rest of his things. “Not tonight, Mary. I’ve got a few patients I need to check in on.” He smiled warmly and she nodded, smiling back at him. “I’ll see you later,” he added, returning his gaze to you. “And you, take care of yourself.”

“Yessir,” you mock saluted and Ketch chuckled, turning toward the door.

“I’ll see you out,” Mary said suddenly, following him and leaving you alone in the kitchen. The spot where he’d put the needle in hurt and you frowned, rubbing it as you stood up and wandered to the sink, looking out over the gardens. It was raining again, like it had been for several days, and you watched the droplets running down the window, gathering together until they moved faster and faster, coming to an end in a puddle on the window sill.

“Everything okay?” Dean’s voice made you shriek and clutch your chest, turning to glare at him. You were expecting a grin, amusement that he’d frightened you, but there was nothing but concern on his face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he soothed, coming a little closer. “You were miles away.”

You hummed, still rubbing your arm. “It’s okay. Sorry.”

“Quit apologizing,” he ordered in amusement, just as Mary returned to the room, her cheeks a little more flushed than they had been before. “Hey, Mom,” Dean greeted, kissing her on the cheek. “Listen, I was thinkin’ about taking you girls out for dinner tonight.”

Blinking in surprise, you stared at him. You hadn’t left the house for days; not since the incident at the mall. Your face was mostly healed but you still weren’t sure about leaving the safety of the compound. “Out?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets, “I know Mom could use a break from cooking -”

“Actually,” Mary interjected, rubbing her hands together. “I have plans.” You frowned, missing Dean’s scowl - it was only moments ago she’d asked if Dr. Ketch was staying for dinner and now she had…

Oh, nope, okay. Your cheeks darkened as you realized how slow you were to catch on.

“But you kids go out. Let your hair down a little. You could go to a movie?” Mary suggested and you blanched, shaking your head at the idea. Dean seemed a little hurt by that but recovered his neutral expression quickly.

“Or, we could take in a private tour of the natural history museum,” he offered, holding his hands out. “No people.”

You smiled, a little relieved at his suggestion. “Yeah. No people. I like no people. Drive thru?”

Dean chuckled, rocking on his heels. “Not exactly the Michelin star dining type, are ya?” With a shake of your head, you grinned down at the floor bashfully and Mary laughed under her breath. “So, what are you doin’ tonight, Mom?”

It was the older woman’s turn to be bashful but Dean seemed oblivious. “Just catching up with a couple of old college friends.” Her son nodded, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the shake in her voice. “Anyway, I’m gonna go and get started on some chores.” Mary backed away and dashed from the room, leaving you and Dean alone.

“Do you mind if I freshen up and change before we go anywhere?” you asked and Dean frowned.

“Of course,” he said, reaching out to touch your shoulder gently. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be down here.”


	8. Chapter 8

Sometimes, it was very hard to reconcile the image of a criminal in your head with the Dean Winchester you’d come to know over the last few weeks. The museum had been an unexpected twist - he drove you in his car, the one no one but Sam or Mary were allowed to drive. She was his pride and joy, inherited from his father, and Dean practically gushed when he showed her to you.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a wife?” you teased and Dean chuckled, opening the passenger door for you like the gentleman he’d proven to be.

“Baby’s good with sharin’,” he commented back, winking at you and an unexpected flush of heat ran through your belly. Dean shut the door and by the time you had your belt on, he was in the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. The Impala made a beautiful sound as it roared to life and Dean grinned at you. “Listen to her purr.”

You giggled as he pulled the car out of her spot in the garage, driving with a little more flare than was necessary. He was showing off but not afraid of owning it, and you couldn’t help but laugh when he turned the music up.

“Cassettes?” you asked, picking up the box.

“Classics,” he amended and you smiled, going through them. “Lemme guess - your dad used to listen to ‘em.”

The thought of your father sobered you and you put the box down, pushing it away with your foot. “No. I… I like a lot of classic rock.” Dean seemed to realize what he’d said and his face fell, his hand snatching out to turn the music down again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, scrubbing his palm over his face. “I’m an ass. I don’t think before I speak.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, giving him a small smile. “It’s a unique situation. Anyway, I never really knew my Dad. He was… absent to say the least.” You sighed, lacing your fingers together in your lap. “And after everything… I don’t think he gets to be my father anymore.”

Dean’s mouth set into a thin line, his rage at the man still plain as day on his face. “You tell me what you want me to do about it, sweetheart, and I’ll do it.” His hand rested on his lap as the car cruised along the road easily with little guidance needed. On impulse, you reached out, placing your hand over his.

You didn’t have an answer for what you wanted to happen to your father. Mostly you wanted him to disappear but that had different connotations to a gangster. “Thank you,” you whispered and Dean nodded. He wasn’t about to rush you for a decision.

Although an unfortunate accident might happen if you didn’t say anything soon.

For some reason, you left your hand where it was and Dean turned his underneath, pressing your palms together and flashing you a smile. You felt a little flutter in your chest and turned your attention to the street outside, trying not to focus too much on how warm his fingers felt against yours.

Or how big his hands were.

The museum was already closed when you pulled up but that didn’t seem to be a problem for a man like Dean. Benny was already there with one of the security guards and the manager of the museum as you exited the car and walked up the path at Dean’s side. You suddenly hoped there hadn’t been any threats made to secure this visit.

“Mr. Winchester!” the manager rushed out, drowning in his own flop sweat as he came forward to shake Dean’s hand. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“Again?” you asked and Dean scrubbed a hand over the back of his head.

“Oh yes, the Winchesters are patrons of the museum,” the manager praised and you realized his toupee was slightly loose on his head, bobbing with his enthusiasm. “Is your brother not joining you tonight?”

You blinked at Dean in surprise as he ushered the manager inside, confirming the museum would be yours and his for two hours with no interruption. When you were finally alone, you fixed Dean with a narrowed gaze, all too aware of Benny lurking by the entrance. “Is this a regular thing?”

“Sam’s got a few extra-curricular interests. Rare books, fossils, things like that,” Dean explained, swallowing nervously. “And I sometimes come here to -”

“Seduce women by impressing them with your money?” you surmised, crossing your arms across your chest.

Dean burst out laughing. “Oh, god, no. I don’t go to this effort for any woman,” he gasped, trying to control his laughter. “If I wanna get laid, that’s what bars are for.” You flinched at how callously he said it, ignoring the jealousy that curled in your belly.

Had he been going out to bars recently?

Does it matter? you scolded yourself. You don’t have a claim to him.

“I just like coming here. Sitting around the exhibits. It was somewhere my mom and dad brought me when I was a kid. Before… before everything.” He sounded sad all of a sudden, his green eyes filling with emotion as he looked around before offering you a little smile. “How about we head over to the dinosaurs first?”

You stepped up to him, sliding your hand into his. “Sure,” you whispered, smiling back and Dean’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red. He didn’t say anything, leading you off towards the “Jurassic” section of the museum.

The tour was nice without the crowds and Dean showed you his favorite displays. He explained that the museum was one of the few things from his and Sam’s childhood that was remotely normal - they’d only recently gotten their mom released from prison after thirty-two years behind bars.

After her incarceration, John became focused on proving her innocence, which he did, at the cost of his own life. It took them ten years to find the evidence that finally freed her and gave the boys back the mother they’d needed. The transition to having her back had been rough, especially for Dean, who had built up the image of his mother from a young age and now was confronted with a less than perfect representation.

“She’s nice,” you assured him when he asked if you were okay with her mothering. “I didn’t have a wide social circle before…” Sucking a breath, you stopped, closing your eyes and dismissing the renewed spark of remembrance in the back of your mind. “I never really had many friends. And your mom is nice to talk to.”

Dean huffed. “Yeah. So long as she isn’t making kissy faces with Ketch.” You giggled and he glared when you took his arm. “What?”

“You’re like a little kid who doesn’t like his mom’s boyfriend. She’s a grown woman.” Your chiding words made the tips of his ears turn red and you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “We heading home?”

He grinned and nodded. “Yeah. I’m pretty beat. Wanna grab food on the way back?”

Your eyes lit up. “Can I pick?”

“Sure thing,” Dean chuckled, giving Benny a little wave as you approached the door arm-in-arm. “Whatever you want, princess.”


	9. Chapter 9

You had a genuine smile on your face for the first time in weeks when Dean left you at your door with a “goodnight” and a chaste kiss on the cheek. Warmth made you hug yourself like a teenage girl after her first date and you slipped into bed feeling more relaxed than you had in weeks.

The room lit up with blue light when your phone started to ring and you frowned, picking it up and staring at the unknown number. Hesitantly, you answered; “Hello?”

“ _You look like you had fun tonight_.”

Your lungs filled with frozen air and your eyes went wide, your hand shaking as you held the phone and didn’t reply. The voice on the other end - decidedly male - chuckled darkly.

“ _But a kiss at the door? That’s not how you should be serving your master, Y/N_.”

“Who is this?” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. “How do you -”

“ _I’m a generous man, Y/N_ ,” the voice interrupted and you felt like you wanted to puke. “ _But I’m running out of patience. You have three days. I’m watching_.”

The line went dead and you burst into heavy sobs, dropping the phone onto the mattress. Memories of the sharp knife on your skin, hands touching you, leaving bruises on your most intimate places, assaulted you and you buried yourself under the covers.

You weren’t safe anywhere.

Slipping from the perceived safety of your blanket cocoon, you located your sneakers. The hallway was dark when you emerged and you looked around warily, unsure of yourself knowing that someone was potentially watching.

There was a light on in the kitchen and you stepped in, finding Sam at the table with paperwork spread everywhere. He looked up as you walked in. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, his expression souring as he saw the state of you. “What’s wrong?”

“S-someone called me,” you shivered out and Sam got to his feet. “They - they threatened me. They were watching us!” The last word came out broken and you collapsed into the warm arms that surrounded you. Sam held you tightly, guiding you to a chair where you could let your legs give out. He kneeled beside you, taking your hand and pushing your hair away from your sticky face. “W-where’s Dean?”

“He went out,” Sam said, frowning in concern. “What did the caller say? Did you recognize the voice?”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head. “Where did Dean go? We only got back thirty minutes ago.”

Sam shrugged. “A bar I think.”

You stiffened in your chair. “If I wanna get laid, that’s what bars are for.” Dean’s smirk loomed in your mind and your fright gave way to unreasonable jealousy and anger. “I’m not safe here,” you said suddenly, getting up and stumbling a little on shaking legs. “Someone saw us. Inside the house. I’m not safe.”

The younger Winchester reached out to snag your arm but you wiggled free, sprinting towards the stairs. Mary was coming out from her bedroom as you ran past, slamming your door and locking it behind you. A second later, someone pounded on the door but you ignored it, shoving your things into a bag.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Sam called through the door. “You’re safe here. Please. You can’t -”

“You can’t force me to stay here,” you shouted back, hearing Mary demanding an explanation. Grabbing your phone and your laptop, you shoved them into the bag with the clothes you’d dug out and headed for the door, opening it and staring Sam down. “I’m not property!” you snapped. “I don’t belong to anyone, not that Victor creep and not your brother!”

Sam jumped back as you stormed past him, avoiding Mary who tried to block your path. You pushed her back, anger making you lash out as you jogged down the stairs. She called after you but you kept going, headed for the door.

“Y/N, stop!” Sam yelled and you heard the click of a gun. Turning slowly, you faced him, shocked that he had pulled the weapon on you.

“You’re gonna shoot me now?” you asked, staring at him with betrayal on your face. “Go ahead. I’d rather be dead than live as someone’s pet!”

“You’re not a pet,” Mary whispered, coming down the stairs behind her son. “Y/N, we’re trying to help you.”

“I’ve been here for weeks!” you screamed, fists balled at your sides. “I want to go home!” You spun on your heel and opened the door, flinging it wide so it slammed against the wall. Sam shouted your name again and you kept going, shrieking when a bullet flew past you and hit a wooden beam on the front of the house.

He’d shot at you. Okay, a warning shot but still, you didn’t know how good his aim was.

You broke into a run, heading down the street, sticking your thumb out when you saw headlights coming. Sam was chasing after you, Mary in tow, and you moved faster as the truck caught up, wasting no time in climbing into the front seat. “Please,” you gasped, reaching over to clutch the driver’s arm. The middle-aged man looked at you in confusion before alarm covered his face.

Sam was at the window, trying to get the door open but the driver had already locked it. “Y/N, get out, don’t do this -”

“Please,” you repeated, “just drive. He’s trying to kill me.”

The driver’s eyes widened and he put his foot on the gas, speeding away from Sam and his mother, away from your forced imprisonment. You watched through the back window of the truck as Sam ran after you, gun aimed, and you waited for the shot.

It didn’t come. He got smaller and smaller until he was nothing and you slumped in the seat, sighing heavily.

“Thank you,” you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m not gonna ask what trouble you’re in, missy,” the man said, shaking his head. “But I sure hope it ain’t about to get me killed by a Winchester.” You blinked, sitting up straight and looking at him in panic. The man laughed, shaking his head and pinching the brim of his trucker hat. “Bobby Singer,” he introduced. “Glad to make your acquaintance, Y/N.”

“H-how do you know my name?” you asked, your fear escalating.

“Sam was yellin’ it through my window, sweetheart. I’ve known that boy since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. And don’t get me wrong, I know what kinda men they are, but Sam ain’t one for killing an innocent girl.” Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “You innocent?”

“Are you going to take me back to them?” you whimpered, shaking anew.

Bobby shook his head. “No. But they know where I live and it ain’t far. I was only headin’ out to pick up some beers for the evenin’. Which I’m still intendin’ on doin’, by the way.” He chuckled and glanced at you with a smile. “If you wanna run while I’m in the store, make sure you’re fast.”

“Why are you helping me if you know them?” You couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was saying, his thick drawl almost indistinguishable in places.

“Because I know that it don’t matter how fast you are, darlin’. If the Winchesters want you, they’re gonna get you.” The thought made the fright in your chest spiral. “Maybe you should enlighten me as to why Sam’s chasing you down the street in his pajamas?”

You sucked in a breath and closed your eyes. “What’s the point if they’re gonna find me?” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you tried not to cry all over again. The constantly blocked nose was getting annoying. “I didn’t do anything. Someone… someone attacked me.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Attacked you?”

“A man called Victor had me kidnapped,” you admitted quietly, gazing out of the window. The old man didn’t say anything but the tension in the cab was thick enough to slice. “Dean is supposed to be protecting me but… there was someone in the house. Watching us.”

A long sigh made you look over at Bobby, a frown on your face. “I know Victor,” he said, nodding with a pained look on his face. “And I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m taking you back. I let you run and that monster gets you?” He shook his head. “I couldn’t live with myself.”

Your heart sank. “I can’t - someone was there -”

“And they’ll find out who it is,” Bobby assured you, just as headlights washed over the truck from behind. His eyes lifted to the rear-view mirror. “Looks like I don’t have to take you back after all. I’d recognize those headlights if I was blind.”

The roar of the Impala made you glance out of the window, seeing the sleek black car with Dean in the driver’s seat. Bobby slowed the truck and pulled over to the side of the road, outside of a pet store. Streetlights illuminated the window and you remained in your seat, staring at the display of kittens all rolling around playfully.

“He will protect you,” Bobby said, reaching over to touch your shoulder. “I got faith in them boys, despite their many faults. Dean keeps his promises.”

“What if protecting me involves hurting me?” you whispered and Bobby sighed, glancing over at the approaching Winchester.

“I can’t answer that,” he replied, flicking the locks on the door. Dean circled around to your side, opening the door and you looked down at your lap. “Dean,” Bobby greeted with a nod.

“Hey, Bobby. Thanks for pullin’ over, man.” Dean’s sharp gaze landed on you. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“Sam shot at me,” you muttered, deciding on a whim to sulk your way through the confrontation. “I want to go home.” Dean growled under his breath, reaching into the cab for your bag, hauling it out. “You’re just gonna ignore me?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna ignore you,” he snapped back. “What you did was fucking stupid. Get in the car. I’m taking you home.”

You jumped down from the cab, snatching your bag back and storming off past him. “Fuck you, Dean.” He snarled, slamming Bobby’s truck door and ignoring the man’s objecting cry. Bobby shook his head and started the engine again, pulling away before he got sucked into any more drama.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled, stamping his foot as you completely bypassed the Impala and continued to walk down the street. “Goddammit, Y/N!”

“What, you gonna pull a gun on me too?” you screamed back, barely looking behind you. His footsteps echoed across the empty street as he ran to catch up, snagging your arm before you could get too far. “Get off me!” you yelled, pulling out of his hold. “Don’t you have a bar skank to go fuck?”

His expression was an amusing mixture of shock and anger. “What?”

“Did you have a good time tonight?” you ground out, staring him down. “Good enough that you needed to go out and get laid?”

“What the hell does it matter if I did?” he snarled, advancing on you, reminding you just how fucking big he was. Dean was menacing when he wasn’t trying to be, but now he was downright terrifying. “You’re not my girlfriend. You’re not my wife. You’re just a girl that’s unfortunate enough to be related to a scumbag who sold you out.”

“Just a girl?” you repeated, lifting your chin and Dean’s demeanor melted a little.

“I don’t mean it like that,” he said softly, reaching out to you as he lowered his shoulders. You avoided his touch and Dean sighed, shaking his head, glancing back down the road to the Impala. “Will you please come home with me?”

“It’s not my home, Dean,” you reminded him. “I’m a captive. And it’s not safe there. Someone was watching us.”

“And we’re gonna figure it out. I promise you, Y/N, nothing is going to happen to you.”

You stared at him, bottom lip sneaking out as you tried to not cry again. “You don’t know that.”

Dean’s hand slipped into yours. “I do,” he insisted. “And for the record, I went to a bar with Benny. For a drink. I wasn’t picking anyone up.”

“I thought that it didn’t matter?” you asked, letting him guide you toward the car. Dean reached over and took your bag, not letting go of your hand until he had you by the door of the Impala’s passenger seat. When he didn’t answer, you looked up at him. “Dean?”

“Yeah?” he murmured, barely meeting your eyes.

“He said I had three days,” you whispered, a horrible churning in your belly. Dean didn’t say anything; he lifted his hand and cupped your face, staring at you for a few moments before releasing you and opening the car door. You slipped into the seat wordlessly, waiting for him as he put your bag in the trunk and climbed in the driver’s side.

“We’re gonna figure this out,” he promised, not looking at you as he turned the key in the ignition. You didn’t answer, laying your head on the back of the seat and staring out of the window as Dean pulled the car away from the curb.


	10. Chapter 10

It was fifteen minutes before you realized that Dean wasn’t driving back the way you’d come. He didn’t speak, keeping his foot on the gas, and you didn’t find the courage to say anything until the Impala passed the city limits.

“Where are we going?”

“Until I can figure out who or what was spying on us,” Dean grunted, “we’re going to a safe house. My safe house. Only me and Sam know where it is.”

“A safe house?” you repeated blankly. “Where is it?”

He chuckled. “I should really blindfold you but that’s a little too cliche, right?” You couldn’t help but smile at that. “It’s a cabin. Middle of nowhere. But it’s got internet, cable, everything you could need for a hide-out. Honestly, I haven’t been up there in years. No need for it.”

“Is it far?”

“About an hour’s drive. I already texted Sam. He knows where we are.”

You nodded, staring out of the window at the changing scenery. It was becoming more closely packed with trees and it wasn’t long before the fields were completely obliterated by forest. Dean kept driving, sticking to a safe speed as it started to rain again.

Neither of you spoke for a while and you were almost drifting off when the car turned onto a side road. “Sorry,” Dean mumbled. “Road’s are a little rough up here.” The Impala creaked in protest when she hit a hole in the road and you frowned. “It’s only about half a mile,” Dean said, dropping his speed. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “just a little car sick.”

He smiled. “You’re safe.”

The road got worse as you went along and you clung to the door, wincing when the car groaned in protest. Dean patted the dashboard, muttering encouraging words that made you smile. He really did love this car.

Up ahead, the trees thinned out into a clearing, and a cabin sat in the middle at the end of a long cobbled driveway. Dean drove up the length of it and you stared at the house in awe. When he’d said “cabin”, you’d imagined a ramshackle building in need of major repairs but this… this was one of the cabins you’d see in a brochure for a country getaway.

The outside walls consisted of solid wood logs, two-story with a balcony separated from the house by large French windows. Around the back was another garden, this one less kempt than the one at the main Winchester house, but still neat and tidy.

“I’ve got a lady who comes up here to keep it clean and tidy,” Dean explained, grabbing your bag from the trunk. “She gets enough money to live comfortably and doesn’t say a word about what she does.” He gestured to the door and pulled out his keys.

The front of the house extended beyond the rest of it, supporting the balcony above and lined with rustic logs as a porch. On one end, there was a barrel and a rocking chair that wouldn’t look out of place in  _Little House On The Prairie_. Dean unlocked the door and stepped inside, flicking the lights on.

“I’m gonna have to run to the store tomorrow,” he muttered, looking around as you stepped inside, your mouth agape in awe. “There’s three bedrooms upstairs. The balcony connects two of them. I don’t know if you’d wanna be in the back room or -”

“It’s fine,” you whispered. “This place is amazing.”

Dean smirked, handing you your bag. “Go pick a room and get some rest. I’ll be down here, okay?” You nodded and took the bag, hesitating before opening it and plucking out your phone. As you handed it over, Dean frowned.

“It was an unknown number,” you explained. “And I don’t want…”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the phone and turning it off. “Just in case they tracked your GPS,” he said, pocketing the device. You nodded and smiled, sighing as you moved past him toward the stairs.

 _Just another prison_ , your mind taunted and you scowled as you hit the landing, glancing down to the bottom of the stairs. Dean had disappeared and you sighed, wondering what would happen if you didn’t do what Victor wanted. Could they find you here? If they’d tracked your GPS like Dean thought, they probably already knew where you were.

Exhaustion left you with little option but to sleep and you slunk into the back room, not even bothering with undressing before collapsing onto the bed and passing out.

*****

When you woke, the room was filled with sunlight and you yawned, rolling over. On the bedside table, a digital clock glowed red, announcing the time as nearly noon. You sat up, shocked you’d slept for so long.

Leaving the room, you padded down the stairs, looking around for Dean. He was on the couch, one leg propped up on the cushions, his arm draped over the edge and his mouth open as he snoozed. You watched him for a minute before heading into the kitchen.

There wasn’t any food in the cupboards and your stomach growled in protest.

“Mornin’,” Dean murmured, shuffling into the kitchen. You jumped, managing not to scream this time, and he smiled. “I gotta run to the store. You wanna come with me?”

“What if someone sees us?” you asked, frowning.

“You’re with me. S’what they wanted, right?”

His answer only made you remember the phone call. They didn’t just want you with him. They were intent on you being with him in the biblical sense. And while Dean was incredibly attractive, you preferred to have some choice in whether you slept with him or not.

Especially since it didn’t seem like once was going to be satisfactory.

The store wasn’t far and Dean left you to pick up the things you needed, confident that the small, family-owned business was far enough from civilization to prevent anything happening. The clerk seemed to know Dean and asked how he’d been.

You wandered over to the feminine products aisle, grabbing some shampoos and body washes that you liked. There was stuff in the bathroom at the cabin but you didn’t like using things you weren’t used to. Dean didn’t seem to care how much you spent so you loaded up on snacks and comfort food.

Approaching the till, Dean eyed your purchases with curiosity. “Red vines, huh?” You shrugged, smiling at him. “Y/N, this is Marco,” he introduced you to the clerk, “she’s a friend of mine.”

The clerk lifted his chin giving you a sly look. “Hi,” he greeted. “Did you find everything you wanted?”

“I did,” you replied, smiling. “Didn’t you need anything?” you asked Dean and he shook his head.

“I’m good with whatever you got.”

“I didn’t exactly go healthy,” you admitted and Dean chuckled.

“Sweetheart, this physique is not the result of healthy eating. Lucky genetics and an active lifestyle.” He patted his stomach and you giggled, placing your basket on the till. Marco rang up the items and chatted away, making you feel a little more relaxed.

In your head, you could pretend it was a romantic getaway, not an attempt to hide from the man who wanted to kidnap you and use you as a sex slave.

The drive back from the store was quiet and Dean hummed along to the Metallica tape in the deck, tapping his fingers on the wheel. When you got back, you carried the groceries into the kitchen, putting them away as Dean helped.

“I got stuff to cook a lasagna,” you mentioned. “Do you like lasagna?”

Dean grinned. “If it’s edible, I like it,” he retorted and you laughed under your breath. He picked up his coat, heading over to a cupboard by the back door of the house. “It’s supposed to get cold tonight. I’m gonna split some logs for the fire.”

He disappeared out of the back door and you finished putting the groceries away before turning your attention to the stove. You hadn’t ever used one that was this posh and you were a little concerned about blowing the house up. Eventually, you decided to go and grab your laptop for some music before you started to cook.

When you returned downstairs, Dean was back indoors, cursing as he trailed blood across the floor. His hand was bleeding and you frowned, putting your laptop on the kitchen counter before turning to him. “What happened?”

“I’m a little outta practise at bein’ a lumberjack,” he joked, holding his hand.

You tutted under your breath. “Do you have a first aid kit anywhere?”

“Under the sink,” Dean instructed, looking a little pale. You guided him towards a chair, giving him a stern look.

“Sit,” you ordered and he obeyed without question. Grabbing the kit from the sink, you returned to his side and kneeled, taking his hand. He was shaking now and for a second, you were concerned that you’d need a hospital. “Hold still,” you whispered.

Dean’s eyes focused on you as you rifled through the first aid kid, locating some cleaning wipes. As you wiped the wound, it became clear that it wasn’t actually that deep; it was just bleeding a lot.

“I don’t think you’re gonna need stitches,” you commented, clearing away the rapidly congealing blood. “But I wouldn’t suggest trying to cut any more logs.”

He chuckled. “You’re not freaked out by blood?” he asked and you shrugged.

“Only if it’s mine,” you confessed, smiling up at him. “I’m gonna wrap this up but I’m serious about not using it. You got lucky you weren’t two inches further down.”

“It can get cold up here,” Dean warned. “We’ve only got enough logs for one fire.”

It was hard not to blush as you thought about how to reply to that. Before you could stop them, the words slipped out; “I’m sure we can find other ways to keep warm.” His eyebrows shot up and you rushed to cover the obvious innuendo. “Hot cocoa. Blankets.”

 _Sharing body warmth_ , your traitorous mind piped up and your mouth flooded with moisture as you met Dean’s darkening eyes.

“Yeah,” he rumbled, a sound that went straight to parts of you that you wanted to ignore. Finishing up, you bandaged Dean’s wrist and stepped back as quickly as you could. He turned his hand, inspecting your handiwork and looking a little less like he was going to puke.

“Y-you should go and shower. Maybe get some fresh clothes,” you suggested, smiling nervously. “Oh, and could you turn the stove on for me?” Dean smiled and nodded, standing up, coming a little too close to you. Your heart thudded in your chest and you jumped back like you’d been electrocuted.

“You okay?” he asked, concerned that he’d frightened you again.

With a tight grin, you rolled your shoulders and nodded. “I’m fine,” you lied easily. “Go wash up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean saluted and turned, walking away. You heard his footsteps thump up the stairs and the tension seeped out of your body. Slumping into the chair, you laid your head on the table.

What the hell was happening?


	11. Chapter 11

“This is delicious,” Dean moaned, the sound almost sexual as he shoveled food into his mouth. You looked at him in amusement as sauce dribbled down his chin, threatening to drip onto the thick black sweater he was wearing. “Don’t tell my mom but this might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Giggling, you took a small mouthful of your own food, silently agreeing that you’d outdone yourself this time. Cooking was a hobby you didn’t indulge in very often but you supposed, with time on your hands, you could do something useful.

Maybe you’d get lucky and this would count as servitude.

Doubtful.

Dean groaned again, rolling his eyes in pleasure. “Seriously. You are amazing.”

You looked away bashfully, smiling widely as Dean continued to eat. His plate was cleared in minutes and you pointed at the kitchen counter. “There’s some left.” His eyes lit up and he moved faster than you expected, prompting you to laugh. “Is it really that good?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, like you’d asked a stupid question. “But really, don’t tell my mom.” You grinned, turning back to your meal as Dean emptied the lasagna dish onto his plate. He returned to the table, licking his tomato-stained lips as he picked up his fork. “Do you cook a lot?”

With a shrug, you swallowed your mouthful. “Sometimes. It’s a hobby, I guess. But it’s just me so I don’t really get to cook things like this.” You smiled wistfully. “When I had Lucifer, it was a different story.”

“Lucifer?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My cat,” you explained, pushing a piece of pasta around the plate. “Well, my mom’s cat. She called him Lucifer because he howled like the devil if he didn’t get what he wanted.” A fond memory of the cat popped into your head and you chuckled. “He was the fattest cat I ever saw. When Mom passed, I kept him. He died a couple years ago.”

“How long have you been on your own?” He seemed like he genuinely cared and you let your guard down the smallest amount.

“My mom died five years ago,” you said, spearing the pasta on your fork and lifting it, wondering if you could even stomach eating. “I guess I just got used to it.”

Dean didn’t say anything to that and you both lapsed into a comfortable silence as you ate. When you were both finished, he took the dishes, carrying them over to the sink. He started to run the water and you frowned, getting to your feet.

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously.

He chuckled. “Not used to a guy doin’ the dishes, huh?” His hands plunged into the soapy water and you stepped a little closer, watching him. “I got used to being mom,” he explained quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Dad was… preoccupied and Sam was just a kid.”

“Weren’t you?”

Your question made his back stiffen a little. “That’s different,” he muttered darkly, the smile disappearing off of his face. “Sam needed me,” he sighed, picking up a plate and dunking it into the warm water. “He’s a smart kid. Shouldn’t have dragged him back into all of this.”

“He’s turned out okay,” you replied, moving closer, feeling butterflies in your stomach. “He’s a nice guy. Even if his aim is crappy.”

“He wasn’t tryin’ to shoot you, kiddo,” Dean laughed, giving you a sideways glance. “If he was, you’d be dead.” That was a sobering thought and you looked down at the floor, shuffling your feet. “Hey, why don’t you go pick out a movie?”

You blinked at the change of subject and forced a smile onto your face. “Sure. What are you in the mood for?”

Dean shrugged, chuckling. “Surprise me.”

*****

After much thought, you settled on  _Indiana Jones And The Raiders Of The Lost Ark_ , which really did surprise Dean when he joined you. He’d brought through some of the snacks you’d bought and a couple of beers. You turned your nose up at the drink and he frowned.

“You don’t drink beer?” he asked and you shook your head, scowling when he laughed. “Knew you couldn’t be that perfect.”

Your only reply was a playful slap to the arm and you snatched a bag of Haribos away from him before settling down on the cushions. A few moments passed as the film started, then Dean shifted, clearing his throat.

“C’mere,” he murmured, lifting his arm, obviously intending for you to occupy the spot at his immediate side. You stared at him, unsure of what to do and he sighed when you didn’t move. “It’s gonna get cold in here. That sweater is thick but not thick enough and I’m a friggin’ radiator. So come here.”

Swallowing down your nerves, you shuffled along the cushions, clutching your candy tightly. You felt awkward as you half-laid against his side, although he wasn’t lying - he was warm to touch. Dean smiled as you got comfortable, letting his arm rest around your shoulders.

Before you noticed you’d done it, your arm was wrapped around his waist, fingers burrowing into the warmth of his sweater. Dean didn’t say anything, so you didn’t move, keeping your eyes on the television even though you wanted to look up at him.

You wanted to see his face, know what he was thinking. The idea that you could just tilt your head up and brush your lips against his was taunting you, sitting in the back of your mind with such clarity that you could see it. Indy had just landed in Cairo but you weren’t paying attention to the movie anymore.

Moving your hand, you felt your heart rate quicken as you slid your palm down to Dean’s thigh. His breathing changed instantly and the fabric of his jeans pressed up against your wrist.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a throaty growl.

This was it. You could do it; lift your head and kiss him. His pants were already getting tighter with his arousal and you closed your eyes…

… aaaand moved your arm back to where it had been originally.

“My arm was cramping,” you whispered, looking back at the television. Dean didn’t say a word or move and the movie continued. The details still didn’t register - your mind was racing as fast as your heart.

When had you last dated? You remembered a guy a few years ago, Sean Something. He’d managed one night of above-par lovemaking before he decided you weren’t worth the hassle and you hadn’t really bothered since. And your last encounter with men had been your unpleasant stay with Victor’s lackeys.

What if Dean saw the scars? What if he knew exactly what they’d done to you? There was a video out there somewhere. God, what if he’d seen it?

 _No, no, no, don’t cry_ , your mind screeched and your fingers unconsciously tightened in the fabric of Dean’s sweater. He frowned, looking down at you just as the Nazi’s on the screen started to melt. “Does this bit scare you?”

 _Convenient excuse_.  _Run with it_. The internal order was followed by a “yeah, a little bit”, that made Dean chuckle and remain oblivious to your distress.

He was so far out of your league, you were playing a different sport. Dean Winchester was a GQ-esque hottie and you were, at most, a three. In a bar or on the street, you wouldn’t be a blip on his radar. This entire set-up was a consequence of actions beyond your control.

The movie ended. Dean shifted and sat up, looking back at you as you pressed your hands between your thighs. “Temple?” he asked and you nodded, giving him a watery smile. Leaning over to change the disc in the player, Dean’s shirt rode up his back, exposing tan skin and a long thick scar on the right side of his lower back.

“What happened?” you asked before you could stop yourself and Dean paused, glancing over his shoulder. You pointed to the scar and he touched his bare back, realizing what you were inquiring about. “Looks bad.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he said, finishing up with changing the movie and moving back into his seat next to you, lifting his arm up again. You slotted into his side without thinking, focusing on the movie as it started looping the main menu. “Sam was twenty-three. Mom was still in prison, Dad had only recently passed away.” Dean’s voice was choked as he spoke and you remained quiet, letting him talk.

“Sammy picked up an infection and it got bad. Really bad. His kidneys were failing and he needed a transplant. As soon as the doctors said I was a match, I demanded it was me.” He chuckled, tightening his arm around you. “The scar’s just a small price to pay for keeping my little brother alive.”

You smiled, wrapping your arm around his waist again. “You’re a good man, Dean Winchester,” you whispered and he huffed, obviously disagreeing.

 _The Temple Of Doom_  didn’t do a lot to keep you focused and your mind started to wander. Dean’s fingers were running up and down your arm now, the touch teasingly light and muted by your sweater but nice all the same. You inhaled and sighed deeply; a happy sound escaped your lips that made Dean smile.

He kissed the top of your head and you froze.

On screen, Indy and his friend discovered the underground altar. The screams of the man being lowered into the lava prompted Dean to grab the remote and turn the volume down a little. “Y/N,” he said, his voice low and you lifted your head, finding yourself in the very position you’d imagined earlier.

Dean’s plump pink lips were millimeters from yours and you could smell the beer on his breath, mixing with the woody scent of his cologne. His pupils dilated, eclipsing the brown and green around it and you couldn’t blink.

He was so close.

And you were so confused.

“We can’t…” you whispered and he frowned. “You don’t want this.” Your hand rested on his chest, pushing him back slowly.

“Who says?” Dean asked, licking his lips and a throb in your core made you squeeze your thighs together.

“You wouldn’t look twice at me if we weren’t forced into this,” you murmured and Dean tilted his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “Am I really anywhere close to the sort of woman you’d touch?”

He chuckled. “You’re a woman. It’s pretty much all there is to my type, sweetheart.” Your eyebrows scrunched together and he moved, turning so he was facing you. “We’ve spent weeks together, Y/N. You’re funny, smart, you have amazing taste in movies and music,” you giggled and Dean smiled, “and I like being around you.”

“But you wouldn’t have had that if I was a random woman on the street,” you pointed out. “It’s really sweet of you to say those things but you have to admit… I’m not the sort of girl you’d ask out.” He sighed, shaking his head.

“What does it matter?” You pulled your hands into your lap and he frowned. “Look, Y/N, I’m not asking anything of you. I’m just saying… I’m attracted to you.”

What were you supposed to say to that? Thanks? God, he looked so earnest and sweet, waiting for you to answer and you had no idea what to say. Before you could conjugate a whole sentence, Willie’s scream on the television made you jump and Dean chuckled.

Indy yelled for Willie to shut up as he tried to free them and Dean relaxed back into his original position. You remained still, watching him, wondering if he was content with no answer at all. He lifted his arm, glancing at you when you didn’t move.

His hand brushed your shoulder and you leaned in, almost in a trance. For a second, Dean seemed stunned, before your lips pressed into his and he closed his eyes, letting you have all the control. He kept his hands where they were, not encroaching on your personal space anymore than he already was.

“Dean,” you gasped against his lips and he pulled back, raising an eyebrow, “don’t stop.” A grin tugged at his lips and he leaned in again, returning the soft kiss you’d given him. You lifted your hand to grasp the collar of his sweater, pushing him back in what, for you, was an unusually aggressive move.

He moaned into your mouth, complying with your gentle touches, laying propped up on the cushions with you half-draped across him. With one leg slung over his hips, you could feel his arousal through the seam of his pants and a small flare of panic surged into the front of your mind.

Dean broke the kiss, sensing your hesitation. “S’your show, darlin’,” he rumbled, low in his throat and you nodded, biting your lip as you watched his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. Leaning over him, you reignited the kiss, clutching his shoulders with both hands.

You’d never kissed, or been kissed, like this. The heat between you seemed to grow to the point that you were sweating, itching to remove your sweater and be skin-on-skin with him. Dean’s hands landed on your hips, tugging you a little to readjust the position.

The outline of his cock was pressed hard against your clothed sex now, hard and insistent. Thinking about it, about how it felt, summoned equal parts fright and arousal, but you chose to focus on the latter. Dean grunted when you ground down against him, clearly surprised at the bold action.

His fingers tightened on your hips and you broke away, breathing heavily, sitting astride him. A shudder coasted down your spine, caused more by the cold than the tension between you. Dean frowned and released his hold on you, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Cold?” he asked and you nodded, smiling nervously as his hand stroked up over your thigh. “C’mere.”

He tugged you down and you laid across him, resting your head on his chest. His arms surrounded you, cocooning your smaller frame in his warmth. It was cozy and as you watched the movie, your eyes started to droop, emotional exhaustion sending you into a light sleep.

You missed the end, stirring when Dean shifted a little. His hand cupped the back of your head as he tried to slip out from underneath you and you groaned in protest, lifting yourself up on your hands. He gave you a lopsided grin.

“I kinda need to, er -” He jerked his head towards the door and you realized he needed the bathroom. With a slight giggle, you climbed off, returning to your seat as he jogged off to the other room. The movie was done so you got up and changed it over for  _Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade_.

It was difficult not to replay the kisses you’d shared with Dean and even harder to ignore the renewed heat between your thighs. The sleepiness you’d felt earlier was replaced by an incredibly alert sensation and you tapped your hand against your knee nervously.

Dean returned, wiping his hands on his pants. He sat back down with a smile. “We’re doin’ the whole marathon, huh?”

“Probably not the fourth one,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. He pulled a face and you laughed, leaning back into him.

“You sure you’re gonna make it through this one?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “You were pretty out of it -”

“I’m awake now,” you said quietly, shifting against him, your hand accidentally brushing the crotch of his jeans. Heat burst into life in your lower belly and you sucked in a breath, overcome with arousal. You lifted your head, meeting his lips with no hesitation this time and Dean groaned, making no move to stop you when you moved to straddle his lap, your thighs either side of his.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured when you broke away to breathe, “we don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” you insisted, cupping his face between your hands. “I want you. If…  if you want me… I -” The courage you’d had started to dissipate and Dean smiled, reaching up to push your hair back behind your ear.

“I want you.”


	12. Chapter 12

_“I want you.”_

The words were huskily spoken, almost a growl and you practically flooded your panties. Dean stretched up, connecting your lips again in a deep kiss, stroking his tongue against yours. “Want you so much.” You whimpered into his mouth, clutching the fabric of his sweater.

His fingers were pulling at your sweater now and you offered no resistance, letting him drag it up and over your head. Before it had hit the floor, Dean’s sweater was on its way to joining it. He dragged you down as you freed him, tossing the clothing behind you.

“Here?” he asked and you nodded, too impatient to wait. Dean chuckled, threading his long fingers through your hair and loosening it. You moaned against his lips, grinding down against him, gasping when he thrust up, letting you know how much you were getting to him.

Slipping from his lap, you ignored his growled protest that turned into silence when you stepped back and unbuttoned your pants, letting them slide down your legs. You were left in your panties and t-shirt and Dean remained on the couch as you strutted back towards him and resumed your position in his lap.

His hands cupped your ass, calloused fingers scratching your skin slightly but you didn’t mind. He was gentle, soft, still letting you take the lead.

“Take your pants off,” you whispered and Dean’s top lip curled in a sexy snarl.

“You sure?”

“Just do it,” you ordered and he chuckled, reaching between you. Dropping yourself next to him, you waited for him to stand up before perching on the edge of the couch, admiring the curve of his ass through his boxers. When Dean turned around to face you, he was surprised to find you directly in front of him, your fingers sliding under the waistband of his underwear.

His hands covered yours, the same question on the tip of his tongue. You silenced him with a smile and Dean removed his hands, watching you with lidded eyes.

Dragging the material down over his hips, his cock bobbed as it was freed from its confines. You sucked in a breath, looking up at him as you wrapped one hand around the base, stroking him from root to tip. Dean groaned in pleasure, not taking his gaze off of you.

It had been awhile since you’d done this of your own accord. You sort of remembered what you were doing and you tried to focus on the intimacy of the moment rather than your anxiety making your stomach roll uncomfortably. Continuing your slow strokes, you built up your courage with each little sound Dean made.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, tipping his head back. “Don’t stop.”

His muttered words spurred you on and you darted your tongue out, tasting him with a kitten lick. A guttural sound left his lips and you repeated the action, savoring his salty-sweet tang on your tongue. Dean clenched his fists at his side, gasping through each little exploration.

When you slowly took him into your mouth, testing the weight of him with your tongue, Dean’s entire body shuddered. He moaned when you withdrew and sank down on him again, taking a little more in, enough that you felt him at the back of your throat. Your gag reflex sprang up with a warning clench and you drew back, looking up at him and gasping.

Dean’s chin dropped to his chest and he looked at you, sat on the edge of the couch with his cock in your hand, lips spit-slick and shiny. One big hand cupped your cheek and he leaned down, forcing you to relinquish your hold on his manhood. He kissed you deeply, easing you back onto the cushions as his hands moved to push your shirt up.

You froze as his finger tips grazed your stomach, reminding you of your injuries. Most were scars now, but some of the worse ones were still scabbed and pink. The movie and the lights were too much and you shook your head, prompting Dean to stop instantly.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, removing his hands from your shirt and carefully balancing his weight over you. “You’re safe,” he promised, kissing a path along your jaw and you nodded, forcing yourself to relax as he moved down your body, stripping his own shirt before positioning himself between your thighs.

From this view, he was bent over with his ass in the air and the sight of it was enough to distract you as his fingers dragged your panties down over your hips. His warm palms descended on your thighs, parting them slowly, giving you every chance to stop him. When you didn’t, Dean lowered his head, his warm breath caressing your folds.

A whimper left your throat when his tongue gently brushed against your clit, circling and teasing the swollen bud until you were clutching the cushions. It was a few seconds before you registered the thick digit pushing at your wet entrance. Dean went slow, thrusting the tip into you until you were panting.

“More.” The word left your lips in a whisper and Dean pressed his finger in deeper, curling it inside you. Pressure like you’d never felt spiralled in your belly and he groaned against your clit, triggering your climax. Your hips lifted and he placed his free hand on your hip to hold you down gently as he coaxed you through.

You came down slowly as Dean pulled away, a sinful grin stretching his lips. Primal lust surged through your blood and you reached for him, dragging him flush with your body, his cock nudging your pussy. A harsh gasp from you made him stop, his eyes searching yours for reassurance.

“You okay?” he asked and you nodded, pulling him closer, hungry for him now. Dean’s hand slid between your bodies, his mouth crashing into yours again, providing a distraction from the touch of his fingers opening you up. The warmth of his cock against your entrance was enough to make you mewl impatiently, prompting him to chuckle. “Greedy girl.”

His mildly filthy words made you smile and you reached up to pull him into a deep kiss, forcing his body closer to yours. The first inch of his cock pushed between your slick warmth and you gasped into his mouth, placing one hand on his ass to encourage him on.

“Dean,” you croaked, desperate for more, “please, fuck me.”

He stopped, frowning at you with a little shake of his head. “Not gonna fuck you,” he whispered, brushing his lips over yours, rolling his hips to force more of his length inside you. You arched and gasped, closing your eyes when he growled against your throat. “Gonna make you feel good, sweetheart.”

With one slow stroke, Dean filled you to the brim, a primal grunt rumbling against your pulse point as he held steady, letting you adjust. Your chest heaved, hands running along his arms, his back, reaching down to squeeze his firm ass as he groaned. The urge to keep touching him went unresisted and Dean captured your lips in another kiss when he started to move.

His fingers ghosted over your skin, making you respond with whimpers and moans, each one swallowed down as Dean rocked into you. Keeping his thrusts slow and hard, he hit the same spot over and over, sending a shiver of electricity through your core until your body tightened around him, desperately clinging to him as you came. He didn’t stop, his lips caressing your jaw as you cried out, trying to breathe through the pleasure.

Your breaths slowed and you met Dean’s eyes, cradling his face in your hands to pull him into a kiss, lifting your legs a little more. The angle changed, allowing him to push deeper and he grunted loudly, one hand grabbing your hip as his release flooded your insides and he stopped moving, gasping for breath.

“You are full’a surprises,” Dean murmured, nuzzling your throat as he came down.

Neither of you moved for a little while, sharing lazy kisses, and you felt like you could fall asleep for a thousand years. Dean kissed your cheek before withdrawing from your body with a wince, his spent cock leaving a trail of cum on your inner thigh.

He slipped his boxers on, passing you your underwear and you put them on, frowning when he turned off the television and moved back to kiss you again.

“Bed?” he asked and you smiled, nodding as you took his offered hand.


	13. Chapter 13

It was easy to let the idyllic morning and lazy lovemaking with Dean fool you into forgetting that this wasn’t a romantic getaway. Dean wasn’t your Prince Charming. You were still his property, his captive, but in the warmth of his arms, you could pretend it wasn’t that way.

Of course, something had to go and ruin it.

Dean’s phone rang, disturbing the both of you from a mid-morning nap. He moved, answering it and you rolled over, burrowing into the covers and enjoying the pleasant ache that thrummed through your body. You were fairly certain you had that “I just got laid” look on your face that the heroine always had in the movies. Your hair was probably a mess and you  _definitely_  needed a shower, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“You’re sure?” The conversation Dean was having caught your attention and you poked your head out of the covers, enjoying the profile of Dean’s nude figure from behind. His ass was perfectly delectable. “Shit, yeah. We’re heading back this afternoon anyway.” You frowned and lifted up a little more.

Going back?

“Not a problem, man. Yeah, see ya later.” He hung up and turned around with a smile that faded when he saw your face. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re going back?” you asked, voice a little mousy and disappointed. Dean climbed back onto the bed, sliding under the covers and you started to resist his arms as he wrapped them around you.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, frowning as tears started to roll down your cheeks. “Y/N, I don’t understand why you’re upset.” You closed your eyes, willing the painful emotions in your chest down. “Baby, talk to me…”

Placing one hand on his chest, you felt his heart racing underneath the skin and you forced your eyes open to look at him, seeing the concern in his gaze. “Did you only sleep with me because… because it meant you didn’t have to stay here?”

Dean’s entire expression crumbled in shock and disbelief. “Didn’t you listen to anything I said last night?” he asked quietly and you remained silent, unable to take your eyes away from his. He looked hurt by your question which surprised you even more. “Sweetheart, if I just had to sleep with you to save you, I’d have only done it once, for starters. I don’t care what brought us together.” He leaned in, kissing you hard, and you were too shocked to respond properly. “But I didn’t sleep with you just because it meant I could go home. I slept with you because I wanted you, because…”

You covered his lips with yours, cutting him off. It was enough to know he hadn’t done it for any reason other than he wanted to. Right now, it felt like you were poorly equipped to handle anything other than knowing he was attracted to you.

Dean smiled when the kiss broke, cupping your face. “I wanna take you home,” he whispered and you nodded, smiling back at him through your tears.

“Okay,” you breathed, placing your hand over his where it cradled your cheek. “Let’s go home.”

*****

The drive back was quiet; Dean kept the music low and his hand repeatedly found its way onto your knee, his boyish smile making you grin just as much. Sunshine beat down on the Impala as she cruised along the highway back to town and you didn’t suffer from as much apprehension about returning to the Winchester house as you’d thought you would.

Dean pulled the Impala onto his street as the sun was starting to dip low on the horizon. His hand slipped from your knee to guide the car into the driveway of the expansive house and through the security gates. Benny stood on the other side, arms crossed over his broad chest. He nodded at Dean who nodded back and you smiled bashfully.

You hadn’t anticipated other people’s reaction to whatever had developed between you and Dean. As he parked the car, you clasped your hands together in your lap, your nerves building. “Dean,” you said quietly and he turned to you, putting the parking brake on. “What if -” You swallowed, closing your eyes for a second to prevent the anxiety rising in your chest. “What if your mom or your brother aren’t happy with this?”

His expression was soft and he reached over, taking your hands in his. “For one? It’s none of their damn business.” A smile grew on your lips. “Not that it matters ‘cause my mom’s about ready to adopt you and my brother -” His gaze went past you and you turned your head, seeing Sam approaching the car. “Owes you an apology.”

He climbed out of the car and you followed suit, coming face to face with a sheepish Sam Winchester. “Hi,” he greeted, rubbing a hand through his long hair nervously. “Look, about the other day…”

“It’s forgiven,” you assured him, smiling. “I was freaked out and you were freaked out and -” Dean chuckled, retrieving your bags from the trunk of the Impala. “ - lucky for me you’re a crap shot, huh?”

“I’m not -” Sam stopped, realizing he’d just be digging a deeper hole and he forced a smile onto his face. “Yeah. Lucky.” His eyes met the amused green orbs of his brother and Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Mom’s cooking dinner.”

“Great,” Dean grinned, slinging your bag over his shoulder and taking your hand. The younger Winchester didn’t seem to bat an eyelid and you felt your cheeks heat up as Dean directed you towards the house. Sam walked ahead, holding the door open for you.

Mary had cooked an entire roast dinner and there were new people here that you hadn’t met. The nerves you hadn’t been too bothered about surged to the forefront of your mind and you shuddered. Dean felt it and frowned, cupping your elbow and drawing you back.

“You okay?”

“I - I don’t know,” you whispered. “There’s a lot of people.”

Dean smiled softly, placing his palm against your cheek before he leaned in and kissed you softly. “I’m here,” he promised and you nodded, avoiding anyone’s eyes as he led to you the table after his little public display of affection. The Winchester matriarch pulled out the chair next to her, smiling brightly at you.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said as you sat down, Dean taking the unoccupied chair next to you. Sam walked around the table, taking the spot between Eileen and a woman with bright red hair that you hadn’t met before. “I don’t think you’ve met Charlie, Garth or Asa before, have you?”

You shook your head and the redhead piped up first. “I’m Charlie,” she gushed. Gesturing to the short haired and gangly man next to her, she introduced him. “This is Garth.”

“At your service,” Garth said, tipping his head and you smiled at him. Benny took his seat next to the last unknown face that you presumed was Asa. He waved and looked down at his plate. “You’ll have to excuse Asa, he’s a little shy around a pretty face.” Dean cleared his throat, leveling Garth with a glare but the other man didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “Oh, hush up, Dean. Ain’t no one steppin’ on your territory.”

“Damn straight,” was the grunted reply that seemed to break the tension. It lifted a little of the anxiety that was like a lead weight in your chest - it seemed you and Dean were already accepted among his family. Mary’s hand laid over yours and she squeezed gently, prompting you to smile at her.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ketch announced, walking into the kitchen. Dean’s entire demeanor shifted as he swept past, taking the empty seat on Mary’s other side, bending to kiss her cheek. “You didn’t have to wait.”

“Wasn’t aware we were,” Dean growled, stabbing his fork into a potato. No one pulled him up on his comment and Garth changed the subject to his upcoming wedding. You lost yourself in the conversation, more focused on Dean’s hand as it wandered over your thigh underneath the table, unseen by anyone else.

When the meal was finished, Mary brought out pie, which seemed to improve Dean’s mood. You passed on the dessert, feeling tired from the drive, enough to excuse yourself back to your room. Dean had left your bag by the door and you picked it up, carrying it through to the staircase.

Sam and Eileen were in the corridor, kissing slowly, too tangled up in each other to notice you at first. You attempted to slip by, smiling, but Sam’s keen eye caught your movement and he abruptly ended the kiss, both of them looking embarrassed.

“I didn’t see anything,” you promised and Eileen grinned as Sam’s ears went bright pink. Without waiting, you skipped up the rest of the stairs to the first floor, finding your bedroom exactly as you’d left it. You plugged your laptop in and dug out some clean clothes from the closet, intending on a shower to wash away forty-eight hours of stress, angst and sex.

A phone was ringing when you emerged from the shower. Frowning in confusion, you followed the sound, remembering that Dean had your phone and you hadn’t bothered to ask for it back. The shrill ringing continued, luring you to the bedside table where the phone sat inside the drawer.

It was only a text. You picked it up, not recognizing it as anyone’s phone. The settings were standard and the message was from an unknown number.

_Good girl. Be alone at 9pm. Say anything, one of them dies._

One of them? One of who?

Tapping out a reply, you sent it and waited.

_Who are you? Why do I have to be alone?_

It took what felt like forever for the phone to buzz again and your finger hovered over the answer. You should take this to Dean. Show him before anything else happened. But… but what if he had only slept with you to save you? What if this was a charade until they found Victor and did whatever they had to?

_Dwayne’s been asking about you_

Your blood ran cold and your legs turned to jelly, forcing you to collapse onto the bed. The message was all you needed to know that you still weren’t safe. You were being manipulated and if you told anyone, they wouldn’t be able to protect you.

_Wait for instructions. Be alone._

Tossing the phone across the bed, you dropped your head into your hands, trying not to cry. Realizing Dean would be up at any moment, you stood, crossing the room on shaky legs and locking the door. The minutes ticked by and your heart thudded in your chest as you paced, unsure what to do.

The phone rang at 9pm on the dot before Dean could discover your locked door. You stared at it, too frightened to answer and it stopped after a minute or two. A message came through and you picked it up from the bed covers, opening it.

_Pick up or Mary dies first._

You covered your mouth as the phone rang in your hand again and you answered, choking out a “hello”.

“ _Good girl_ ,” the same voice that had taunted you the other night filtered through the line, “ _I knew you’d play along_.”

“Who are you?” you demanded, voice trembling. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“ _You’re a means to an end, nothing personal_ ,” the mystery man said, chuckling down the phone. “ _You’ve done exactly what I wanted. Dean’s in love with you._ ”

You shook your head, feeling your legs give out and you sank to the carpet. “No, he’s not - we -”

“ _Do you miss my boys, Y/N? They miss you. Your little feature film has been a real hit._ ” Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as your tormentor laughed. “ _And I do miss the feel of your tight little body on my cock. I’m quite jealous of Dean, getting you all to himself in that little cabin getaway of his._ ”

They knew. How? Only Sam knew about the cabin. Sam wouldn’t betray his brother.

_Would he?_

“ _I have one more task for you_ ,” the voice instructed and you swallowed, wiping your eyes. “ _Fairly simple. Do it and I’ll consider the debt paid. You’re free to go back to your life without any further threat_.”

What did he want from you? You were terrified to even consider the possibilities. “What?” you whispered, clutching the phone tightly.

“ _There is a lookout point in El Dorado State Park. Very romantic spot. Lovely view of the stars._ ” A frown dipped your brow and the voice continued. “ _You and Dean will be there alone. Friday. 10pm_.”

“Why?”

The voice laughed. “ _Nothing of your concern. Do it and you can go home. Disobey_ ,” his laughter became dark and distorted, “ _and you will spend the rest of your short miserable life being fucked in every hole until you’re broken_.” You opened your mouth to demand more answers but the line went dead. The tears came in floods and you dropped the phone onto the carpet.

A knock at the door made you jump and Dean’s voice followed shortly after. “Y/N? Everything okay?”

You stared at the phone. What did you do now? Tell Dean the truth? Risk going back to… to those men? The memory of the pain they’d caused you, the violence of their touch and how they’d brutalized you, came rushing back and you clutched your belly when physical pain lashed through you.

“Y/N?” Dean sounded worried and you heard clicking.

Impulse had you knocking the phone under the bed, out of sight, just as Dean got through the door and rushed to your side. You were weeping heavily now and he instantly dropped to the floor, wrapping his arms around your towel-clad body.

“What’s wrong?” he asked and you clung to him, the truth on the tip of your tongue as he rocked you back and forth. “Baby, tell me -”

“I -” You stalled, lifting your head to look at him. No matter what your developing feelings for Dean were, you couldn’t go back there. You couldn’t let them touch you again. Sniffing, you shook your head. “I fell asleep after my shower,” you lied. “I - I had a nightmare.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean soothed, cradling your face and leaning in to kiss your tears away. “I’m here,” he promised, smiling softly. “You’re safe. I promise.”

You nodded and let him pull in close, burying your face against his shoulder. The threats of the man on the phone made your stomach roll and you closed your eyes tightly, desperately holding on to Dean’s murmured lies.


	14. Chapter 14

Sleep avoided you that night. Dean was out like a light, arms tightly wound around your belly as he slumbered; he’d opted to stay in your room for the night. Tomorrow, he’d decided you’d move your things into his room and you had tried to put on a smile for his sake.

Tomorrow was Thursday.

The sun rose, spilling light into your bedroom and you scrunched up your face as you woke, drowsy from poor rest. Dean was still asleep, his nose pressed against your shoulder, one arm draped over your hip. You were naked - you hadn’t bothered to get dressed last night - and Dean wearing his boxers and socks. His big feet brushed against yours, the fabric of his sock tickling your toes.

“Dean,” you whispered, rolling over and he hummed in reply without opening his eyes. “Can we go somewhere?”

He chuckled, still keeping his eyes shut. “We just got back from somewhere.”

“I mean, like, on a date,” you corrected and his eyes snapped open. “Th - there’s a place in El Dorado State Park. A lookout point and… I wanted to go. With you. To watch the stars.” The lie didn’t sound convincing to you, but Dean grinned, apparently interested in the idea.

“That sounds real nice. You wanna go tonight?” he asked.

“No,” you rushed and he frowned. “No, tonight… the weather forecast probably isn’t good.” His eyes lifted over your shoulder to the window, where the drawn curtains displayed sunny blue skies. “It’s a full moon tomorrow night.” You had no idea if that was true but Dean didn’t seem to know whether it was or not and he shrugged.

“Sure,” he said, smiling and leaning in to kiss you. “Sounds awesome.”

The kiss deepened and guilt made you want to vomit. Pulling back, you smiled at him tightly and patted his chest. “I need to pee.” Dean chuckled, rolling onto his back and folding his arms behind his head. You slipped from the covers, fast-walking to the bathroom as he wolf-whistled at your bare ass.

Closing the bathroom door, you collapsed against the wall, covering your face with your hands. What were you doing? Dean wasn’t in love with you. You couldn’t fall in love with someone like that in a matter of weeks. The man on the phone was wrong. He had to be.

But Dean’s goofy smile, the way he’d gone from guarded and stiff to relaxed and playful around you. The kiss in front of his family. His mom’s blessing last night.

No. You couldn’t entertain the thought. Between going home and being dragged back to Victor’s men, you knew what your choice would be. Maybe Dean believed his promise that he could protect you, but three times now someone had gotten to you. He was underestimating his enemy.

Someone in this house was betraying him. And everything was pointing to Sam. He was the only one who knew about the cabin. Dean would probably tell him everything. But why would he be his own brother’s Judas?

“You okay?” Dean called, startling you from your thoughts. You quickly did what you’d originally intended in the bathroom, brushing your teeth to try and alleviate the dank taste in your mouth and peeing. When you didn’t reply, Dean knocked at the door and you rushed to open it, smiling up at him before realizing he was completely naked.

“Oh!” you gasped as he pushed the bathroom door open a little more.

“I could use a shower,” he commented.

“I - er - I had one last night,” you stuttered, feeling your body react to his proximity, one of his hands cupping your face to pull you into a kiss.

“Yeah but I wanna get you dirty again,” Dean purred, his hands trailing down to rest on your hips. “Why don’t you back up and turn around; show me that fine ass.” You paused, unsure of what he wanted. “I want you,” he murmured darkly and a shiver ran down your spine as his hand squeezed your ass.

You didn’t have the strength in you to fight the arousal in your belly and when Dean kissed you, you responded eagerly, letting him manhandle you back towards the sink. His impatience was signified by his cock prodding your hip and he turned you to face the sink, guiding your hands to the edges for stability.

Instinctively, you bent forward, gasping when two fingers pressed against your soaked hole, teasing you with a light touch. Dean’s lips ghosted over your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror above the sink. “You wanted me to fuck you?” he asked and you shuddered, nodding as you pinched your bottom lip between your teeth.

Dean eased his fingers inside you, watching as they came out glistening with your arousal. You were panting now, twitching all over in anticipation. He thrust his fingers back into you, twisting his wrist to open you up for his generous length.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he drawled, working his fingers faster; your knuckles went white where you clutched the porcelain.

You’d learned quickly that Dean liked it when you talked dirty to him. It hadn’t been something you’d particularly engaged in before, but then again, there were a lot of things you’d discovered enjoyable that you hadn’t known about before Dean Winchester got his hands on you.

“Want you inside me,” you begged, every conscious thought replaced by need and you gasped when Dean pulled his fingers free of your body, sucking them between his pink lips with a decadent moan. He stared at you in the mirror, his dark gaze inspiring your racing heart beat.

He moved so he was stood directly behind you, kicking the rug back down when it rolled in on itself. You held on to the sink, watching Dean in the mirror as he fisted his cock and bent his knees a little, the tip of his shaft warm against your sensitive folds.

Your body clenched in arousal as he pushed in, penetrating you slowly, letting you feel every inch as it filled you. His eyes rolled back and he tipped his head, groaning in pleasure when your body swallowed him completely, cockhead resting against your cervix with an uncomfortable but highly intoxicating pressure.

For a moment, he held still, one hand on your hip, the other on your shoulder, holding you against him with minimal pressure. You gasped for breath, unintentionally flexing your internal muscles around him and his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together audibly.

“You have got to stop doing that if you want more than five minutes outta me, sweetheart,” he growled and you giggled, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“But the noise you make is so cute,” you retorted and his hand came down on your ass in a playful spank.

“Oh, you’re in for it,” Dean snarled, pulling back and slamming back in. You screamed in pleasure, pushing back to meet his thrusts, encouraging him to go harder and faster without saying a word. His fingertips dug into your hips as yours desperately held on to the basin, your cries echoing off of the marble tiles.

“Fuck, Dean, yes!” you screeched, dropping your head as wave after wave of bliss crashed over you and you stopped moving against him when it became too much. Dean carried on, rutting into you with animal-like grunts and snarls, his eyes locked on the sight of your slick channel taking him over and over.

The feeling seeped back into your legs and Dean hadn’t stopped. You pushed up on your tiptoes to give yourself a little more leverage; your lower back was beginning to ache and Dean seemed to be no closer to finishing.

One of his hands moved from your ass, lowering to cup your belly. His chest was almost flush with your back now and his thrusts slowed but grew in intensity. With each stroke, his cock slammed into a sweet spot that made your eyes cross, and Dean groaned in your ear.

“I can feel my cock inside you, baby,” he whispered, breathing heavily as you whined and arched your back. “So fucking deep, can feel it in your belly.” You grunted in an unladylike manner when Dean’s fingers swooped lower against your clit. “I wanna feel you cum with me.”

You nodded, closing your eyes as his index finger caressed your clit, circling it almost in time with his thrusts. The aftershocks of your first climax only helped you get to that peak faster and as Dean slammed in, the first warm spurts of cum splashing against your cervix, you lost control.

He held himself inside you as he finished, hauling you upright against his body, one hand still on your belly, the other on your breast. “You feel that?” he asked and you nodded, barely able to open your eyes. When he finally let you down, his cum dribbled down your thighs and your legs wobbled with a sudden need for support.

Dean chuckled, slipping his arm around your waist and helping you towards the shower.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up.”


	15. Chapter 15

The shower had only guaranteed cleanliness for a matter of moments. Dean was quick to take you back to bed, spending the morning worshipping you with his tongue and fingers. You rode him, letting him see all of you, his palms covering your scars, and when you were done he kissed each one, almost like he was apologizing for them.

You had to tell him.

“Dean -” you whispered, looking up at him from where you’d been resting on his chest, listening to his heart rate slow.

“Hmm?” he acknowledged, his chin tucked into his chest giving him the illusion of no neck for a second.

“I -”

Your confession was cut off by a loud banging on the door. “Dean!” Sam yelled and Dean sat up straight, covering you with the sheet and looking around for his boxers. “Dean!”

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses!” Dean shouted back, slipping his boxer shorts on. “Be right back, darlin’,” he promised, winking at you and you nodded, snuggling back down into the thick blankets. Opening the door, Dean slipped out, leaving it slightly ajar. “What’s up?”

“It’s nearly midday,” Sam growled out, his voice muffled by the obstacle of the door.

“And?”

“And?” Sam repeated, his tone surprised and angry. “We’ve got shit to do, Dean. You can’t just laze about here all day because you found a nice piece of ass to tap.”

Dean’s low voice was too quiet to hear and you frowned at Sam’s words. Your thoughts came back around to the possibility that he was betraying his brother but then, it wouldn’t make much sense that he was encouraging Dean to not be with you.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business.” Dean’s voice was louder now and you held your breath, hating that you’d caused this rift. “I’m in charge around here, Sammy. You do what I say or get the fuck out.”

There was a moment of silence before Sam scoffed. “ _Now_  who’s acting like Dad,” the younger man spat and the declaration was followed by heavy footsteps. Dean appeared a moment later in the doorway, pushing it shut as he entered.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he said, dragging himself over to the bed with a tired expression.

“Dean…” you whispered, sitting up. “I don’t wanna cause a rift between you and your brother.”

“You’re not,” he assured you, sliding back underneath the covers with you. “What were you saying before?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, trying to find that courage you’d had five minutes ago. “I -”

Something beeped. Dean frowned, looking over at his phone. He picked it up from the bedside table and checked it. “Sorry, thought I heard it go off,” he grinned and then it happened again. A beep, the sound of a phone battery dying. “Is it -” Dean shifted, climbing back off of the bed and looking underneath. “Is that yours?” he asked, reaching under as you clutched the sheets to your chest in terror.

The phone was on low battery, the little red light blinking as Dean pulled it out and turned it on.

“This isn’t your phone,” he murmured, swiping the screen to unlock it. The messages were there, plain as day, and you felt like you were going to puke. “Y/N… what is this?”

“It’s what I was trying to tell you,” you explained, shaking all over and terrified of what his reaction was going to be. “The man that called…” He was scrolling through the messages now, his frown deepening with each one. “The phone was here when I came up last night. It was in the drawer.” You pointed at the bedside table but Dean wasn’t looking. “They texted first. Then… then they called.”

“Was this why you were crying?” he asked and you nodded, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. “Why did you lie to me?” Dean’s voice sounded like it was going to break. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I - I was frightened!” you whimpered, clinging to the sheets. Dean put the phone down, staring at you with what you perceived as disappointment. “They said I’d… I’d go back… there…” You sniffed unattractively, wondering how much of a mess you looked. “He mentioned the video.”

Dean’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. You couldn’t stop now that you’d started. Best to get it over with, right? “I was supposed to take you to the lookout. They wouldn’t tell me why.”

“Is it Victor?” he demanded, dropping the phone, his voice growing in volume. “Y/N, tell me, is it Victor?!”

“I don’t know!” you cried, breaking into harsh sobs. “I don’t recognize the voice. But they knew about the cabin! And the only person who knows about the cabin is -”

“Sam,” Dean growled, clenching his fists at his side. “No.”

“I don’t know anything else,” you whimpered pathetically. “And that was what I was trying to tell you before Sam came in.” Dean didn’t move, his eyes locked on the phone. When he moved to pick it up, you flinched. Sadness flooded his expression.

“I wasn’t gonna hurt you,” he soothed, reaching out to touch your hand. “Baby, I wouldn’t -”

“It’s someone in this house, Dean,” you interrupted, fear making your voice shake. “I’m not safe here. Someone in this house is working for Victor.” His expression darkened. “Whoever it is knows things about us. They… they said you were…” God, it sounded stupid if you said it out loud.

Dean tilted his head. “Said I was what?”

“Inlovewithme,” you rushed out, inhaling sharply as you finished. “And I know that’s ridiculous. They’re manipulating me.” He didn’t say anything, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles gently. “Dean?”

“Get dressed,” he instructed quietly and you frowned, opening your mouth to speak again but Dean shook his head, getting off of the bed. “Get dressed,” he repeated, “we’re goin’ out.”

*****

Dean had disappeared before you were ready and when you finally joined him downstairs, he was on his phone, texting someone. He smiled up at you, taking your hand and leading you out of the door, acting like nothing had happened.

As soon as he pulled away from the kerb, his expression morphed back into thunder. “We’re goin’ to Bobby’s,” he instructed. “Sam’s meeting us there.”

“What?” you squeaked. “Why?”

“Because I texted him our code,” Dean shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’m gonna get to the bottom of this, Y/N. I’m not having anyone hurt you. And if my brother  _has_  stabbed me in the back…”

You shook your head. “Your brother loves you, Dean. I don’t think he would.”

“He’s the only one who knows about the cabin,” he responded, teeth ground together. “The evidence ain’t runnin’ in his favor, sweetheart.” His fingers flexed around the wheel. “Sam and I clash on a lot of things. Sometimes… it gets physical. Bobby’s is neutral ground - the old man won’t stand for fightin’.”

“So you’re doing this -”

“So I don’t hurt Sam,” Dean growled back. “You need to stay out of the way.”

“Why did you bring me?”

He looked at you then, true fear in his green eyes. “Because if I leave you behind, something might happen.” There were unspoken words there and you sucked in a breath, breaking the eye contact and looking out of the windshield. You weren’t ready.

Bobby’s house was off the beaten track but close to town. It was an old scrap yard, filled with more junk than scrap, and the house itself was in desperate need of repairs. Reconciling this place with the virtual palace of Dean’s other residences was odd and you stared up at the timber building as Dean parked the car out front.

“Spent a lot of time here growin’ up,” Dean said, a little wistfulness in his tone. “When Dad didn’t have time for us, wasn’t anyone else he trusted more.” A pang of understanding filled your chest. You knew all too well what it was like to have a crappy father.

At least it appeared John Winchester tried to keep his sons safe.

“Dean -” you choked out and he paused with one hand on the door and the other on the wheel. “I decided what to do… about my father.” Dean waited patiently, letting you take your time. “I don’t want him dead. But I want him to hurt. I want him to feel every inch of misery I felt.” You lifted your eyes to meet Dean’s neutral expression. “I want him to rot in a hole for the rest of his life.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He leaned over, cupping your face and drawing you into a kiss that held a promise you didn’t want to think about. You’d made your choice and you were putting it behind you. The kiss wasn’t long, but it was enough to leave you panting a little.

“C’mon,” he murmured.

Bobby was already at the door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Dean approach, his gaze stern. “What sorta trouble you two causin’ now?” the old man demanded and Dean grinned.

“Just the usual, Bobby,” he replied, climbing the porch with you by his side. Behind you, tires crunched on the gravel and both of you turned, seeing Sam in his modern Impala as he pulled up. His face was set in a grimace as he got out of the car, his long legs unfolding him to his full height.

No one spoke beyond a simple greeting as Bobby ushered you into the lounge. You took a seat on the couch as Dean stood between you and Sam, his posture alert and stiff. “Wanna tell me what this is about?” Sam asked, keeping his voice neutral. “You only do this when you’re worried about losing a fight.”

Dean’s fists clenched at his side. “I do this so I don’t end up killing you by accident,” he ground out, despite the fact that everyone in the room knew he wouldn’t. “There’s a mole in the house.”

Sam’s expression twisted into disbelief. “What?” Bobby was looking at Dean with a glare now, silently demanding more information. “Who?”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Dean sighed. “We don’t know. But whoever it was… knew about the cabin.”

“You -” The younger Winchester’s face was a picture of dismay. “You think it’s me?”

There was silence for a few moments and Dean shook his head. “No,” he admitted, making you look at him in surprise. “I know it ain’t you, Sammy, but we gotta figure out who it is. Someone’s been callin’ Y/N, threatening her. They wanted her to take me to the lookout at El Dorado tomorrow night.”

“Who the hell would go against you?” Bobby asked incredulously. “You’re a lot of things, boy, but you always look out for the people close to you.”

“And we’re sure it’s not her?” Sam’s eyes narrowed as they landed on you. “She’s the new element in the house and you’ve been with her every day for over a month.”

“It’s  _not_ ,” Dean snapped, lifting a threatening finger towards his brother. “I know you got issues with this, Sam, I’m not an idiot. But trust me, it ain’t her.” He looked back at you, trying to be reassuring. “He’s trying to manipulate her and she told me the truth.”

 _Yeah, twelve hours later_ , your brain provoked and you clasped your hands together in your lap. “And that means she’s exempt from suspicion?” Sam demanded.

“Sure as hell does when half the people I know can’t be honest with me,” Dean snarled, his shoulders tensing. “She hasn’t lied to me, Sam.” Sam snorted and Dean barely flinched before Bobby was raising a hand in his direction. Schooling his composure, Dean’s posture relaxed an inch at the old man’s silent warning. “Besides, like you said, I’ve been with her nearly every moment for the last few weeks.”

“Except when she’s received the calls,” Sam pointed out.

With a huff, Dean reached into his pocket and tossed his brother the phone you’d found in the bedroom. “Get what you can off of that. You’ll see I’m not lying and neither is she.” He glanced at Bobby. “I need to know who this mole is. And now.”

“And what are you gonna do?” Sam asked, inspecting the phone in his huge hands.

Dean’s face was a grim mask of determination. “I’m gonna go to the lookout with Y/N tomorrow night. And we’re gonna find out exactly who’s been threatening her.”


	16. Chapter 16

No one was home when you and Dean returned to the house, both of you in a somber mood. Sam had gone off to meet with Garth and Charlie, two of the people he trusted most. Dean had texted his mom, asking for a family meeting. And family didn’t just mean Winchesters.

It meant everyone in the “inner circle”.

Including you, apparently.

The plush den was full by 4pm. You sat by the window on a loveseat, looking out at the bees on the lavender in the garden. Mary was bustling round with drinks, trying to be the perfect hostess, and there were people here you didn’t know.

Garth, Charlie, Eileen and Sam conversed quietly in one corner. Benny  stood with two large gentlemen you didn’t know and Castiel sat on the couch, his posture stiff as he waited. Dean entered the room, a woman and a man flanking him - you didn’t know them either.

Directing them to sit down, he approached you, reaching out a hand to cradle your cheek. “You okay?”

“Tired,” you whispered. “Do I need to be here?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, bending to kiss you, ignorant of the eyes in the room. Benny walked up behind him, clearing his throat.

“Gabriel’s on his way,” he said. “You wanna start?”

“Not until Gabe’s here,” Dean grunted back, looking around the room. “Jim and Caleb are here,” he noticed, nodding his head towards the two gentlemen Benny had been standing with. “Where’s Daniel?”

Benny shrugged. “I don’t think he’s in town. Hasn’t been for a while. His voicemail just says he’s on sabbatical.” Dean chuckled at that, shaking his head. Daniel was a nomadic type, never around much and Dean didn’t think he had a clue what went on around here anymore. He was an old associate of his father’s, mostly on contract, but he was trusted.

“I don’t think it’s relevant to him. He hasn’t been here in months,” Dean sighed, looking around to take in the other people in the room. “I’m gonna go speak to Sam,” he murmured, touching your shoulder before moving away. You nodded, watching him go.

The woman Dean had entered with sauntered over to him, running her hand down his arm and you scowled. Benny noticed your expression and laughed under his breath. “Don’t worry about Bela. She’s only here because she’s the accountant.”

“Why would you need an accountant?” you asked before changing your mind. “Don’t worry, I don’t think I want to know.” Benny laughed again and you focused your attention on the woman as Dean shrugged her off in irritation. The man who accompanied them didn’t look too pleased about the way Bela was hanging on the elder Winchester. “Who’s that?” you asked, pointing at the man.

“Christian. Family by blood. Bela’s husband,” he snickered. “Him and Dean don’t always see eye to eye but… Mary’s his aunt. They’re civil when they need to be.”

You frowned. “So this is the family?”

Benny sighed, rolling his shoulders. “It’s just like any other family, cher. Difference is, no matter what our problems with each other are, we’re always there. Christian and Bela are loyal to the family and whatever Dean’s dealin’ with, they can probably help.”

“He… he hasn’t told you has he?” you questioned and Benny shook his head, his answer falling short as the door opened again. A shorter blond waltzed in like a celebrity, whipping off his sunglasses and grinning.

“Okay, okay, the party can start,” he joked. “The entertainment is here.”

“That’s Gabriel,” Benny drawled, rolling his eyes. “He’s a loudmouth but he’s good at what he does.” You swallowed, unsure if you wanted to know what Gabriel did. Dean called for everyone to take a seat and you remained on the loveseat, Benny retaining his spot next to you, stood with his arms folded. Sam stood by the television, Dean at his side. They shared a look before the older brother started to speak.

“We got a snitch,” Dean announced. The room fell into a collective tension and you squirmed when several sets of eyes landed on you. It didn’t go unnoticed by Dean, who scowled. “Someone in this room, someone I trust has betrayed me. Betrayed this family. And it’s not gonna go unpunished.”

Mary shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “Do you know who it is?”

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We don’t. But we know it’s someone in this room. Someone who has access to the house -”

“Where’s Jack?” Christian asked suddenly. “Shouldn’t he be here?”

Dean fixed the other man with a cold look. “Jack’s at college. He’s gonna be home soon.”

“And we’re not waiting for him because…?” Christian prompted and Dean’s eyes blazed. “It seems to me you have a suspect. Jack’s always here. He lives here. And he was trouble before you brought him into the family.” Sam lurched forward but Dean’s hand was across his chest, stopping him within seconds.

“Jack,” Dean started, teeth grinding together, “is a kid. He’s loyal. More than I can say for you.”

Christian’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You think I don’t know about the gun running from California? Dealing with the Angels, Christian?” Dean spat and Christian paled, shrinking back into his seat. Bela, his supposed wife, seemed equally as shocked, her delicate fingers reaching to touch the pearl necklace around her throat. “Thought I wouldn’t find out, huh?”

The other man mumbled something under his breath and Sam’s entire body vibrated in rage.

“Jack is not the mole,” Charlie said, raising a hand and glaring at Christian. “But neither is that jackass.” She stood straight from the table she was leaning against. “We’ve swept the house for bugs. Nothing came up. So it has to be someone who has been in this house with unrestricted access.”

“That could be anyone. Someone who isn’t in this room,” Gabriel pointed out, one arm folded over his chest as the other rested on it, his finger tapping his chin. “But I’m guessing you think it’s one of us because they know something personal.”

Dean nodded, looking at the shorter man. “And that’s why you’re here.”

“Deano,” Gabriel chuckled, “I know we’ve been  _close_ , but I don’t know about personal.” You couldn’t help but smile a little at Gabriel’s teasing although Dean didn’t seem too impressed. His eyes rolled and he crossed his arms.

“What information?” Mary asked. Her hands were pressed together between her lap and you realized she looked nervous as hell.

No. Mary wouldn’t betray her own son, would she?

“The information itself isn’t relevant,” Dean dismissed, not noticing his mother’s stiff posture. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “We’ve traced this back to Victor through the phone that was planted in Y/N’s room.” Every person in the room, save those who already knew, looked shocked but you kept your eyes on Mary. Her expression was equally as shocked and you puzzled further over the mystery.

“We know that Victor wants Dean at El Dorado lookout tomorrow night at 10pm,” Sam said, his eyes traveling around the room. “We suspect it’s an assassination attempt.” You held your breath, already aware of the information but no less guilty about the fact you’d agreed to lead Dean to his possible death. “And Dean is gonna go.”

“What?” Mary exclaimed, getting to her feet. “You can’t -”

“I’m not going alone,” Dean informed her, waving away her concern. “They’ll think I am… or they won’t show.” He dropped his arms. “We’ll know who it is soon enough.” He looked over at you, smiling softly. “I’m done here.”

The room was quiet for a few seconds and Dean walked over, silently taking your hand and nodding at Benny. “Dean -” you started but he whisked you out of the room and into the corridor that led to the kitchen. You kept hold of his fingers, letting him pull you along, Benny close behind.

He didn’t stop until you  both stood in the lounge, and a moment later, Gabriel joined you.

“Anything?” Dean asked, not even looking at the man.

Gabriel’s face was a mask of neutrality and Dean lifted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Your mom,” the shorter man sighed. “Out of everyone in that room -”

“Mary?” Benny muttered in disbelief and you clutched Dean’s hands as his heart broke, agony strewn across his face.

“No -” you whispered. “No, she wouldn’t -”

“Wouldn’t be the first time she nearly got one of us killed,” Dean grunted, closing his eyes tightly. Sam entered the room, looking at Gabriel hopefully, his expression crumbling at the man’s crestfallen look. “It’s Mom,” Dean whispered, leaning his forehead against yours.

Sam shook his head slowly, mouth dropping open. “What?”

Gabriel shrugged. “You know why I’m here, Sam.”

“You’re kidding me?” Sam scoffed. “Gabriel, you can’t spend two minutes looking at someone from behind and -”

“I know,” Gabriel growled. “Don’t tell me how to do my job, Sam. You forget who you’re talking to.” There was a menace now to the rather small-statured man that belied a power you didn’t want to see. Sam, despite his greater bulk and height, shrank back, swallowing thickly. Gabriel’s attention went back to Dean. “You need me for anythin’ else or can I get back to the two lovely ladies I left in my hotel room?”

“S’good, man,” Dean mumbled, opening his eyes to look at Benny. “Make sure he’s paid.”

Benny nodded and left with Gabriel, their friendly banter echoing down the hallway.

“Mom?” Sam repeated, his voice hushed. Dean groaned in frustration, trying to turn away but you kept hold of his hands, looking between him and his brother. “She can’t -”

“I don’t think it’s your mom,” you said quietly. “I don’t… she loves you too much, Dean. I’ve spent time with you but I’ve spent time with her, too. I don’t think she could do it.” Dean’s eyes lifted to yours, hope sparking in them and you stroked a hand down his face. “Either way, we’re gonna know tomorrow night, right?”

Dean glanced at Sam. “You all set?” Sam nodded, his mouth a thin line and you tried not to pay attention to the butterflies in your belly. Dean’s fingers tightened in yours and he tugged on your arm gently. “Can we… just go to bed or something?”

“It’s still early,” you replied and he shrugged his ignorance of the fact. He looked exhausted and you felt just as tired, so you nodded, leaning into him as he guided you past Sam, pausing to clap his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay, Dean,” Sam assured him softly and Dean managed half a smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed, little to no enthusiasm in his tone. “It’s gonna be fine.”


	17. Chapter 17

Dean’s exhaustion showed in the eight straight hours he slept. There was nothing beyond a chaste kiss and a cuddle when you fell into bed - his bed, for a change. You didn’t find rest so easily, spending a little while just watching him sleep.

It didn’t feel as creepy as you thought it would.

He looked boyish when he slept. His facial features were relaxed, the frown and laughter lines disappearing and you noticed just how many freckles were dotted across the bridge of his nose, flowing out over his cheeks. His lashes were dark against his skin, ridiculously long and enviable - it wasn’t the first time you’d though that. Dean was practically a model, oozing danger and charm when you first met him. You’d seen the soft underbelly of the beast, though and the beast liked to cuddle.

When you did drift off to sleep, it wasn’t peaceful. Nightmares and flashes of images you couldn’t quite cling onto kept disturbing you and by 6am, you’d had enough. Leaving Dean sleeping in bed, you crawled from the covers and headed to the bathroom.

Once you’d relieved yourself, you pulled on some yoga pants and a shirt, heading downstairs and finding Sam in the kitchen. He was covered in sweat, huge patches of it making his shirt cling to his skin and he grinned at you before drinking an entire bottle of water.

“Wow, thirsty much?” you commented, grabbing your own bottle from the refrigerator.

“Long run,” he explained, sliding into a seat at the kitchen table. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you muttered, sitting opposite him. “Dean has though, he’s still out cold.” Sam nodded, glancing towards the door. Fiddling with the lid of your bottle, you bit your bottom lip, wondering if you should ask the question on your mind. “Sam -”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Do you… hate me?”

“What?” He seemed genuinely surprised at the question. “Hate you? I don’t hate you. I just,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in a gesture that he and Dean shared when they were frustrated with something, “I don’t know you.”

“Fair,” you shrugged, twisting the lid back onto your bottle. “But you don’t trust me.”

Sam regarded you for a second with a calm expression. “No,” he confirmed. “But again, I don’t know you. Dean’s spent a lot more time with you than I have. If he says I can trust you, then I will.” You nodded, looking down at the label of your bottle. “That’s not to say,” Sam continued, making you glance back up, “if you hurt him, I will end you.”

You swallowed, a little apprehensive smile on your lips. “I wouldn’t expect anything else,” you whispered, both of you falling silent as a door opened upstairs. Seconds later, heavy footsteps thumping down the stairs signalled Jack’s arrival. He was already dressed for college, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Morning, Sam, Y/N,” the young man greeted, grinning widely. “I gotta get going or I’ll miss the bus.”

“Do you have lunch money?” Sam asked, reaching for his wallet and Jack nodded, ceasing Sam’s movement. “Good. See you later, kiddo.” With a wave, Jack was out the front door and another slam echoed from upstairs. The footsteps on the staircase this time were thundering stomps that heralded Dean’s grumpy entrance to the kitchen.

“Why has that kid gotta be so loud?” he groaned, one hand rubbing at his eyes as he stumbled towards the coffee pot.

“I’m gonna go grab a shower,” Sam excused, getting up and disappearing. You watched Dean from your seat as he poured a coffee, smiling at his disheveled appearance. He’d come down in only his boxers and t-shirt from the night before and he yawned when he shuffled over to you.

“Wanna come back to bed?” he asked, sipping at the warm coffee and you grinned, standing up. Dean’s lips twitched in a smirk and he followed you up the stairs back to his room. Placing the coffee on the bedside table, he pulled you into his arms before you could make it to the bed, quickly initiating a heated kiss.

He tasted like coffee.

One hand wrapped around your waist, digging underneath the elastic of your yoga pants to grab your ass, tangling your panties, and you squeaked against his mouth. “Dean!”

“What?”

You pressed into him, leaning your forehead against his chest. “It’s Friday.”

“And?”

“Is now the best time to…” You trailed off, cheeks heating up. “Y’know…”

Dean blinked at you in astonishment before he started to chuckle. “It’s not even 7am, sweetheart.” His hand slipped out of your pants and he dropped suddenly, making you yelp. His fingers dragged your bottoms down and you stumbled back out of them, your legs hitting the bed, forcing you onto your back across the mattress.

He was between your thighs in the next instant, lapping and sucking noisily at your pussy and you barely had a second to process. Your ass was in his hands, his tongue pressing against your clit as he pushed you towards the edge. The spontaneity of his touch was enough to get the fire burning and his skilled mouth did the rest of the work.

You came undone, clutching at his short hair, desperate to have him against you. It was oddly unsettling how Dean could wipe away the rest of the world so easily, making every single second about you, him, and whatever surface he had you on.

He entered you with one swift thrust, bottoming out and swallowing down your wanton moan with a kiss. It wasn’t slow or sensual; Dean was searching for something else and you were wide open for him, legs wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper. You craved more and he obliged, grunting against your throat before lowering his mouth to your breasts, pushing the material up to get at your bare nipples.

A shriek of surprise accompanied his teeth worrying one hardened nub and Dean growled, circling his tongue around it. You slid one hand through his hair as he swapped to the other breast, still keeping a steady rhythm rocking his hips into you.

“Dean, I’m gonna -” your words were cut off as he lifted his head and crashed his mouth into yours again. His cock slammed into your sweet spot and your thighs clenched, squeezing his waist as you bucked underneath him. Your cry of bliss came when you tore away from his lips, gasping for breath.

Dean kept going, panting and sweating against your skin, indulging in kisses where he slowed his thrusts to savor the moment. You couldn’t speak as he made love to you, opting to communicate with reciprocation. Seizing the opportunity, you tightened your thighs, leaning heavily to the left and forcing him to roll with you.

The surprised yet pleased expression on his face didn’t last long when you started to ride him, gathering speed and keeping your eyes focused on his blissed out features. His pink kiss-swollen lips parted as he tried to catch his breath, his fingers lingering at the tops of your thighs as you sought your own completion again.

When Dean came, you held yourself down on his cock, feeling every throb and twitch of his climax, silently riding your own wave as you watched his eyes flutter closed, a deep groan leaving his strained throat. The tension seemed to dissipate all at once and he went slack underneath you.

You didn’t move off of him, leaning down to kiss him softly, one hand stroking along his face, his stubble catching your fingers. He sighed into your mouth, eyes still closed and you smiled against his lips as your legs started to cramp.

“I gotta move,” you whispered and Dean chuckled, opening his eyes to look at you when you collapsed next to him, panting heavily and smiling like a loon.

But the bliss couldn’t last. You could let Dean distract you as many times as you wanted, but reality would always come crashing down.

*****

Time switched between crawling and going too fast that day. Mostly, it was the moments with Dean that went too fast and before you knew it, you were in the front seat of the Impala, pretending to be going on a romantic date.

You could have been driving toward death for all you knew.

Dean seemed uncharacteristically cheery for the entire drive and when it was just you, him and the bright headlights Baby shone over the road, you started to worry. Sam had disappeared hours before and Dean had acted like nothing was going on when he’d insisted you put something warm on.

“Do you think it was Mom?” he asked, the smile on his face faltering as you passed the sign to El Dorado state park. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight and you sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t want to think it was her.”

“Then don’t. Maybe she’s hiding something but she wouldn’t want you dead,” you whispered, reaching over to take his hand. “We’re gonna know soon enough, right?”

He nodded, falling silent again as he drew the Impala into the parking lot.

It was 9:45pm. The lookout point was a ten-minute walk.

Dean put the parking brake on and climbed out, waiting for you to follow suit as he dragged a small picnic basket from the trunk. “Thought we could have a drink up there,” he murmured and you frowned, unsure if this was part of the act. There were no other cars in the vicinity and little light from the small street lamps in the lot. “C’mon.”

He shut the trunk and took your hand, leading you off along the dimly lit path. You felt nervousness turn into nausea as you approached the lookout, following Dean up the steep steps to the top. By the top, you were out of breath and Dean wasn’t doing so great either.

“Let’s hope we don’t have to run anywhere,” he joked and you managed half a smile. Dean dropped the picnic basket, checking his watch. “Two minutes,” he said, looking around.

His hands slipped around your waist, pulling you close and you shuddered into his touch, chillier than you thought you’d be. Dean smiled, rubbing your arms with his huge hands.

“I told you to dress warm,” he scolded, leaning in to kiss you.

Your lips never touched.

Bright lights flooded the small area and you instantly shielded your eyes. Dean pulled you back, covering your body with his own and you freaked, knowing he was the target, not you.

A figure stepped out from the light, which you saw now were the headlights of two motorbikes. Getting a car up to the lookout was difficult, one of the reasons Dean had been so confident coming up here. He hadn’t considered other terrain vehicles.

You didn’t care about the bikes when you saw the man who’d stepped out, his crisp tailored suit making your skin crawl. His features were twisted into an eerie smile, made worse by the sharp shadows of darkness invoked by the headlights.

“Dean Winchester,” the suited man drawled, stepping forward with his hands in his pockets. “And my best girl.”

Dean growled, spreading his arms to hold you back. “Who the hell are you?”

Your eyes darted around, trying to catch sight of anyone. Aside from the two men flanking Suit Guy on their bikes, you couldn’t see anyone. Where was Sam? Benny? Castiel? Did Dean really think he could deal with this alone?

Suit Guy chuckled, pulling his hands free from his pockets. “You’re wondering where Victor is, am I correct?” Dean narrowed his eyes and you held your breath, unable to look directly at the man who had assaulted you. The two men on the bikes wore helmets that concealed their identities but you couldn’t help but think they were probably two of the men that had hurt you.

“I don’t give a rats ass,” Dean snapped, pulling his gun. Almost instantly, the two bikers unsheathed their weapons, aiming at Dean and you, until Suit Guy clicked his tongue.

“Now, now. No need to rush.” He tilted his head. “This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.” His eyes moved to you and you cringed, hiding behind Dean like a pathetic coward. “But you don’t seem surprised to see us. Did our girl tattle on us?”

“She’s not your girl.” Dean’s possessive snarl startled you but Suit Guy didn’t seem to care.

“I’ve got video evidence that proves otherwise,” he taunted and Dean clicked the safety off on his gun. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

Another man emerged from the shadows and Dean’s eyes widened, a curse lingering on his lips as he recognized Ketch, holding a pistol on him. You were equally surprised - was Ketch the mole? But he’d been your doctor. He wasn’t inside the family circle. Dean hated him because he was -

Mary’s voice cried out in the darkness as she came up the hill. “No,” she gasped, distracting Dean. The Suit Guy chuckled and Ketch fired a shot.

You felt it hit, felt the sting as it grazed your side.

It went through Dean first.

He stumbled back into you just as something zipped through the air and hit Ketch in the chest, right through the heart. His face twisted in shock and he dropped his gun. Suit Guy’s expression turned to dismay and he turned away in a run, the motorbikes following.

You didn’t know where the shot came from that took out one of the bikers, but the other two men were long gone when Mary pried your hands away from Dean’s wound. Your jacket was drenched in blood, your own and Dean’s; fear for him kept your adrenaline pumping, allowing you to ignore the pain.

“You’re shot,” Dean groaned, reaching out to you with no care for his own injury.

Sam skidded to his knees next to Dean, his eyes wide and you jumped at his sudden appearance. “Where were you?” you asked plaintively as Sam checked his brother’s wound. He barely spared you a glance, tearing off a strip of Dean’s flannel shirt to press it against the right-hand side of his torso.

“Benny’s on his way,” Sam instructed, “keep your hand here, it’ll stem the blood flow.” You did as he asked, watching as he got up, turning around to see his mother bent over Ketch’s dead body. A grim expression covered his face but he didn’t approach, heading over to the bike and its downed rider.

The man was dead - Sam’s bullet had hit him square in the back of the neck, severing his spinal column. It had probably hurt. He dragged the man’s helmet off and took a quick photo of his face, aiming to identify him later.

Lights fell over the clearing as a car pulled up awkwardly on the steep slope. It was one of the SUVs from the garage and Sam was quick to move his brother into the back seat, you still holding on to the wound. “Go,” Sam yelled, pushing you into the back. “Benny, hospital, now!”

“What about Mary?!” you shrieked but the door slammed in your face and the wheels of the car squealed as Benny reversed down the grassy incline. Clutching at Dean’s wound, you looked out the back window as Sam approached his mom before darkness swallowed them.

“Y/N,” Dean gasped, his bloody hand grabbing for yours. “Shit, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Just don’t,” you whispered, leaning over him and kissing him, tasting blood on his tongue. “Don’t say goodbye. I’m not ready for that.”

Dean smiled, despite the greying color of his skin. “You ready for me to say I love you?”

The humorless and desperate laughing sound you made turned into sobs as his eyes closed.


	18. Chapter 18

Sixteen hours had passed since you saw Dean’s eyes open. He’d gone into emergency surgery at the hospital and you’d waited in another room, sobbing into Benny’s shirt as they stitched up the bullet graze to your side. Another scar for the collection.

The bullet had gone right through Dean and glanced off of your side. He’d stopped breathing when Benny tore into the hospital emergency room, screaming for someone to help. The police had turned up not long after and you’d done exactly as Benny asked and kept your mouth shut.

You weren’t about to betray Dean after everything you’d been through.

Benny’s phone rang just after first light and he disappeared, leaving you at Dean’s beside. He was covered head to foot in wires and tubes, as well as something in his throat to help him breathe. They’d said something about blood in his lungs and something else about a perforated something, but you’d been too shocked by the sight of such a proud strong man looking so small and pale and fragile.

This was your fault.

You hadn’t even thought of Ketch. It all made sense now. Why Mary had looked so guilty. How someone had access to the house. Why the hell hadn’t you thought of it before? Because he was a doctor? Because he saved your life?

In reality, he was in the perfect position. Dean hated him and wouldn’t trust him as far as he could throw him; Mary was in love with him and had shared her inner thoughts and secrets. No one ever saw Ketch coming or going, for the most part anyway, and it allowed him free run of the house. Easy to spy on people if no one knows you’re there.

Benny returned by lunchtime, looking exhausted. He sat down next to you, lifting his eyebrows hopefully but you shook your head, denying him any good news. “He’s still critical,” you rasped. “No change.”

“Is that good or bad?” he asked.

You shrugged lazily, looking back at Dean. “Where’s Sam?”

The large man sat back in his seat, sighing heavily. “At the house. He’s comin’ over in an hour or so.”

“And Mary?” you dared, side-eyeing him.

“She’s at home. She hasn’t really been forthcoming with anything; she’s in shock. But Sam figured most of it out.” Benny focused on you for a moment, watching you stare at Dean. “Cher, you’re exhausted. Why don’t you -”

“No,” you cut him off abruptly, not even looking at him. “I’m staying here until he wakes up.”

“You got shot too, y’know,” Benny pointed out.

You ignored him.

Minutes ticked by, the beeping of Dean’s pulse the only sound until Benny shifted and pulled out his phone. “Sam wanted me to ask,” he started, opening up a file with a flick of his thumb, “if you recognized this guy.” He held out the device and you took it, almost dropping it when Dwayne’s face staring back up at you. His blond hair was matted with blood and you knew you were looking at the photo of his corpse.

“Yeah, I do,” you whispered, feeling like you were going to throw up. “His name is Dwayne. And I wish I’d gotten to kill him.”

Benny blinked at that, taking his phone back as you turned in your chair, facing away from him. You curled up, despite the pain in your side, using your hands as a pillow in the large chair. It wasn’t a comfortable position to sleep in but you were tired enough that it didn’t matter.

When you woke up, Benny was gone and Sam was sitting in the chair opposite. You groaned as your neck cracked with the first of your movements and the younger Winchester looked up.

“Hey,” he greeted, returning his eyes to his brother. “You’ve been out for a couple of hours.” You sat up, reaching over to touch Dean’s hand, not saying anything back to Sam. “You should go home -”

“No,” you declined forcefully. “I’m not leaving.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “Y/N, you were shot too -”

“I don’t care.” Your teeth ground together. “I’m not leaving him.” You didn’t take your eyes off of Dean, afraid that if you did, you’d lose your resolve. The thought of going to bed was one that had crossed your mind, you weren’t going to deny that.

But sleeping in a bed without him seemed… rude?

Unthinkable.

Sam didn’t push the subject any further, even when you started to doze on the side of the bed, slumped over awkwardly. He stayed with you, leaving occasionally to grab drinks, getting his way in making you eat at least. It was nightfall before you knew it and you were half-unconscious when the monitors started to beep wildly.

“Dean?” Sam was there, leaning over his brother and touching his shoulders. Dean’s eyes flickered, bloodshot and green mixed in a grotesque clash, and his teeth clamped down on the tube between his lips. Your stomach rolled and you didn’t have any time to react before someone was dragging you back, keeping you away from the bed as doctors and nurses blocked your view.

Dean’s name died in a scream on your lips when the beeping stopped and became a continuous flatline. Somewhere, Sam yelled, amongst the numbing white noise slowly taking over.

Your legs gave out.

Everything went black.

*****

The machine was beeping again. Dean was stable. The seizure was unexpected but not unmanageable, but you would never get the sound of the flatline out of your head or the knowledge that he’d died right in front of you and you’d done nothing. You’d passed out like some eighteenth century maiden.

Sam and the doctors had instructed you to return home; you weren’t in any fit state to be at Dean’s bedside. The argument that finally won you over was Sam asking how you thought Dean would react to your blatant disregard for your own welfare.

But you couldn’t go back to the house.

You weren’t sure if you could face anyone.

Any thought of the still-existing threat didn’t even encroach on your awareness as you hailed a cab and asked them to take you back to your apartment. The building was cold and you were thankful you’d left the spare key under the withered plant by the front door.

Your bed was exactly how you’d left it. You hadn’t been back here in weeks and it felt weird standing in a place that was supposed to be your home but now felt like a shell. A reminder of a life you’d been comfortably miserable in.

Crawling into the middle of the covers, that still faintly smelled like detergent, you curled up on your side, ignoring the pain of your wound and falling into a dreamless sleep.

It was light out when you woke up and you frowned, looking around for anything that could tell you the time. You’d never bothered asking Dean for your phone back and you didn’t really have much in the apartment electronics-wise. Turning on the small television in your bedroom, you flicked through to the news channel.

8am. Huh. You’d slept for about twelve hours.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d wake up,” Sam drawled from the doorway and you shrieked, tumbling backward off the bed and landing with a thump on the floor. The fall ripped a single stitch at the top of your side and the next noise you made was pained.

Sam was at your side in a second, lifting you off of the floor as you grabbed at the injury, blood seeping through the gauze and onto your already ruined shirt. “Shit,” you hissed, batting his hands away when you regained your footing. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You need a decent meal and a shower,” Sam said sternly, looking over at the doorway.

He wasn’t alone. Mary hovered, arms folded across her chest. She looked truly awful and the small, petty part of you that couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid, was happy.

“C’mon,” Sam instructed. “We’re taking you home.”

“Is Dean -”

“He’s stable. They’re expecting him to wake up any time now,” Sam informed you and you stood straight, staring at him. He realized what you were thinking and shook his head. “No. You need to take care of you.”

Mary stepped into the room. “Sam’s right, Y/N,” her voice was hoarse, probably from crying, “you need to take care of yourself before you can worry about Dean.” She wrung her hands together nervously. “I’m sure you probably hate me but I promise, I never meant -”

You closed your eyes, breathing deeply. “I know,” you whispered. “Can’t help who you fall in love with, right?”

“I never thought he was capable of this,” Mary murmured, looking utterly distraught. You didn’t want to think about the guilt she must be feeling; you had enough of your own. “I never -”

“That’s enough, Mom,” Sam shushed gently before looking back to you. “Why don’t you grab anything you want and we’ll take you home.” A shudder ran down your spine as you looked around, realizing the apartment would likely never be home again. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you replied, distractedly, “I’ll pack some things.”


	19. Chapter 19

“Hey, Y/N,” Eileen’s cheerful voice greeted as she knocked on your bedroom door in the Winchester house. You looked up, giving her a weak smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Therapy session?” you joked. “Now?”

The other woman shrugged, smiling brightly. “No time like the present.” She closed the door as she entered, crossing the room to sit beside you on the bed. “C’mon,” she nudged, “spill it.”

A sigh left you and you picked at your nails. “I couldn’t sleep without him here. Going home seemed… right.” Eileen didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue at your own pace. “But it isn’t my home. Home is here, with Dean, and I should hate it because it wasn’t the life I chose, but I’m starting the realize the life I did choose? It kinda sucked.”

There was a soft smile on Eileen’s face now. “And how are you feeling about Dean?”

“Worried,” you admitted. “Really worried. But Sam said he was stable -”

Eileen nodded. “Yeah. He left about fifteen minutes ago to go up to the hospital.” Your face drained of color and Eileen realized you didn’t know Sam had gone. “Didn’t he say anything to you?” she whispered and you shook your head. Growling in frustration, Eileen stood up. “Get your shoes and your coat. I’ve told Sam not to make decisions for you before and he’d better not be ignoring me.”

“Why would you tell him something like that?” you asked, blinked in concern.

“Because you’ve had a lot of choices taken from you,” Eileen explained gently. “And no one has any right to take them away from you anymore.” Your chest warmed at her statement and she gestured to the door. “Come on. We can get up there and kick Sam’s ass.”

Eileen drove like a madwoman and five minutes away from the hospital, her phone rang. She passed it to you and you answered the call, hearing Sam on the other end. “Sam, it’s me,” you said, interrupting his hurried and breathless words.

“ _Y/N! Where’s Eileen?_ ” The concern in his voice was sweet but you still wanted to kick his ass.

“She’s driving. We’re heading to the hospital. I can’t believe you left me behind!”

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Sam grunted, sounding more out of breath, “ _but I’m glad you’re on your way_.”

“Why?” you asked, puzzled, hearing him chuckle down the line.

“ _Because Dean’s awake. And he’s asking for you_.”

*****

It hurt to run but you ignored it, taking off before Eileen even had her SUV in park. You navigated the corridors to Dean’s room, spotting Sam at the door of his brother’s room. He moved as you sprinted towards him, coming to a halt by Dean’s bed.

His eyes were open, although he looked stoned as hell, and when he heard you, he looked up, smiling widely. “Y/N.” The croak of his voice made you burst into tears as you moved to his side, leaning over to kiss him. “Hey,” Dean murmured, stroking your cheek, his thumb wiping away your tears. “S’okay.”

“You’re awake,” you whispered, nuzzling into him. “You’re awake.”

The doctor, that you hadn’t even noticed standing on the other side of the bed, cleared his throat. “We’ll be back to finish up our tests in a little while, Mr. Winchester. Please try not to over-exert yourself.”

“Sure thing, Doc,” Dean quipped back, his attention entirely on you.

“Tests?” you asked.

“I’m running a little short on some memories. They just wanna make sure it’s nothin’ serious.” He smiled, drawing you into a kiss. “You’re okay.”

“I am,” you replied, clinging to the hospital gown covering him. “I almost lost you.” Dean shook his head, kissing you again. “I’m not leaving. Not until you’re home with me.” You smiled, laughing in relief, tears still rolling freely down your cheeks. “Even then…”

“Sssh,” Dean soothed, pulling you closer.

Sam watched from the doorway, feeling Eileen’s hand on the small of his back. “They’re gonna be fine,” she whispered, tugging him backward. “We need to talk.”

*****

“Mom’s cooking,” Sam said, looking in the rearview mirror where Dean was sat on the backseat of the Impala, sulking because he wasn’t allowed to drive. You were cuddled up next to him, glad to finally have him out of the hospital. It had been a long two weeks of hospital food and little to no sleep.

He was on strict instructions to do as little as possible - Dean had already come up with several ideas he’d whispered in your ear during the drive back to the house. One of them included chocolate sauce. Sam remained oblivious or he was purposefully ignoring your giggles and Dean’s low laughter from the back seat.

“I am really looking forward to real food,” Dean groaned. “And a beer.”

“No alcohol,” you scolded, frowning at him. “You’re on really strong pain meds, Dean.” He grumbled, looking up as Sam pulled the car in through the gates. Benny was there waiting as usual, and you took Dean’s hand, smiling at him. “I’m really glad you’re home.”

It didn’t take long to get Dean settled in bed with some movies and his meds knocked him out. He was more tired than he let on, still putting on his front, despite his brush with death. Every test the doctors ran had come back fine - provided he didn’t pull on his stitches.

Leaving him to sleep, you slipped downstairs, finding Mary in the kitchen. “Need any help?” you asked. She smiled at you, looking far better than she had the week before. Charlie and Garth were still unraveling Ketch’s activities and the more that came to light, the easier it was for her to put her grief behind her.

Helping to prepare dinner kept your mind occupied for a little while. You chatted with Mary about the garden, the weather; basically, anything that wasn’t criminal organizations or attempted murder.

Only Benny and Castiel joined you, Sam, Jack, Mary and Dean for dinner. It was a rather small affair compared to the meals you’d gotten used to in the last few weeks. Everyone was on high alert and the Winchester house was the main base of operations. Tonight, Mary had insisted it was only the immediate family.

Dean was in a good mood. You were fairly certain it was due to the medicines he’d been given, but it was easier to roll with it than wait for the other shoe to drop. The dinner table was full of laughter and smiles and for the first time, you relaxed, enjoying the jokes and stories from years gone by.

You slept for ten straight hours, nestled into Dean’s side. When he woke, his wandering hands roused you, but you weren’t about to let him rip himself open again. Instead, you straddled him, riding him through a quick climax that left him gasping.

“Hey,” he murmured when you moved off of him, “you didn’t -”

“Wasn’t about me,” you silenced him, kissing him softly. His strong arms looped around your waist, pulling you back down. “Dean!”

“Oh, stop,” Dean grumbled, kissing you as his hand wandered down to the space between your thighs. You gasped into his mouth when his index finger grazed your clit. “I don’t leave my woman unsatisfied.”

“Y -” He pressed harder, circling the pad of his finger around the sensitive button. “Your woman?”

“My woman,” he repeated, burying his mouth in your throat, sucking a dark mark using his teeth and tongue as he sank two fingers into your soaked channel. “All mine.” His growl rumbled against your pulse point and you sucked in a breath, closing your eyes as Dean used his fingers to fuck you slowly. Your body moved in response to his touch, legs slipped as you tried to use your heels to push yourself up and down, greedily seeking more friction. Dean chuckled, lifting his head from your neck to kiss you again.

“Dean…”

He got what he wanted as your hips bucked and your insides clenched around his fingers, almost forcing him from your body. Dean groaned as you came, soaking his hand. When he was satisfied, he dragged his fingers up to his mouth, making a show of licking them clean.

“You’re impossible,” you murmured, lazily stroking one hand down his face, drawing him into a kiss that tasted like you.

“You love it,” Dean replied, a cocky grin on his lips.

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding at him, “I do.”

*****

You were a fool.

Dean was recovering well, despite his attempts to leave the bed before you or Mary said so. His moods became foul and utterly adorable and you let the distraction take over, fussing over him just to drive him nuts. You indulged in the pretence that you were a normal couple and he’d just gotten hurt in an accident. No one talked about Ketch, no matter how much Eileen prodded.

It was Thursday night when you woke alone in Dean’s bed. Slipping from the cooling covers, you located your robe, tying it tightly around your waist before leaving the room. When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you stopped, hearing voices in the lounge.

“So what do we do now?” Sam’s voice, low and filled with concern. A heavy sigh followed, easily recognizable as Dean. You pressed yourself against the wall, listening with guilt pooling in your stomach. “You wanna find him?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean growled back. “I want him dead.”

Cold dread replaced the guilt in your stomach; Dean’s icy voice was chilling to hear and you knew he was capable of it. Maybe you’d deluded yourself into ignoring the death and criminal activities that he was responsible for. Either way, you couldn’t deny them now.

“What about the video?”

Silence followed Sam’s question and you wanted to puke. The video. Eternal proof of what they’d done to you.

“Get Charlie on it. Don’t say anything to Y/N,” Dean ordered.

“Dean, she’s got a right to know -” Sam paused, cutting off when the sound of glass smashing surprised both him and you.

“No,” Dean snapped, his breathing growing heavier and you wanted to run to him, scold him for over-exerting himself when he’d been shot three weeks ago. “She doesn’t need to know. It will upset her more. Charlie can get rid of it. And we’ll get rid of them.”

“This could get us all killed, Dean,” Sam tried to reason, “and you’re being reckless because of the video.”

You couldn’t move.

“You saw what I saw.” The bombshell that floated through on Dean’s voice sent you silently crumbling to the floor, tears brimming in your eyes. “He sent it to taunt me. And I’m going to rip his head off for it.”

Dean had seen the video. Sam had seen it. Who else?

A sob tore from your lips, giving away your espionage and in the next second, Dean was in the hallway at your side, big hands pulling you into his warm embrace. “Sweetheart -”

“You saw it,” you gasped, trying to suck in oxygen and getting nowhere. “You saw…”

“Sssh,” he hushed, stroking his fingers through your hair. “It doesn’t matter, we’re dealing with it.”

The shock of knowing someone had seen the video, someone you cared about no less, was enough to make everything that more real. You could feel them touching you again, and no matter how much Dean tried to soothe you, it was too much and you dissolved into complete hysteria.


	20. Chapter 20

It was raining again. It seemed to rain a lot these days.

You’d been laying in bed for hours after you’d heard Sam and Dean talking. The subsequent discovery that you were an unwilling porn star and meltdown that followed had left you exhausted. Dean had tucked you back into bed, whispering that everything was going to be okay.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw their faces, felt the way they’d violated you.

Who else had seen the video?

By noon, your fears and anxiety were morphing into anger. Since the minute this had all started, you’d screamed and cried and denied everything. Now, you had to face it.

You had to fight it.

The afternoon went by in silent contemplation. Dean joined you at one point, laying down behind you, not speaking, not suggesting anything; he was just there if you needed him. You appreciated that, even though you didn’t feel like it was necessary anymore.

Taking back control would be easy. Victor and his suited goon would never see you coming.

They wouldn’t expect it from you. They expected you to be weak and powerless, but instead, they’d given you something to live for, something to fight for.

Something to kill for.

But you had to do it alone.

*****

Dean hadn’t so much as flinched when you got out of bed. He was still recovering, still taking the pain meds that knocked him out and you tried not to feel guilty as you strolled away from him, dressed head to toe in black. In your hoodie pocket, you held Dean’s gun with the safety on, stolen from his bedside drawer.

You waited when you heard Jack get up, patiently listening for his bedroom door to click shut again. When it did, you slipped out, being as quiet as you could closing the heavy wooden door.

The expansive garage had several cars - you chose one of the less conspicuous models, easily locating the keys in Dean’s anally kept collection. It had been awhile since you’d been behind the wheel of a car, but it felt familiar, felt  _good_  to be doing something on your own.

And you remembered the route to your father’s house like the back of your hand.

It was a little past 5am when you pulled up, the sun peeking over the horizon and lighting up the street. The trees were turning golden and there was a considerable amount of litter on the sidewalk, a common sight in the lower class neighborhoods.

Your dad’s apartment block was the last one on the left and the door, as predicted, was broken, allowing you easy access to the building. He lived on the fourth floor and the elevator was out, leaving you with no option but to climb the stairs.

When you reached his door, you hesitated, the weight of the gun in your pocket making you nervous. But you had to do this. This was you, coming out the other side, refusing to be the victim. Justice, after all, wouldn’t be served by normal conventions. Not when you’d fallen in love with your so-called captor.

Three knocks and there was a thud from inside the apartment. Some shuffling and the rattling of chains on the door and Gregory Grahams opened the door, staring at you with sleepy eyes like he’d seen a ghost.

“Hi, Dad,” you quipped. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Gregory swallowed. “Y/N?”

“Last I checked, you didn’t have any other daughters.” You smiled cruelly. “I suppose, if you did, you’d have sold them off to cover your debts too.”

His face was ashen, horror in his eyes and you knew it then - he’d seen the video. He’d watched what they’d done. The thought of it only compounded the rage in your veins and you pushed your way into the apartment, not caring that your father probably had about sixty pounds on you and a significant height advantage.

“Y/N, baby, I’m so -”

“No,” you snapped, whirling on him as he shut the door. “You can lock it while you’re there,” you ordered, revealing the gun and training it on him. Gregory’s eyes went wide and he raised his hands, showcasing the fresh sweat stains under the armpits of his t-shirt. “Why’d you do it?” you demanded.

Gregory shook his head, trembling and remaining in his spot. “Baby, I didn’t - I was -”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,  _Gregory_ ,” you snarled.

He sucked in a breath, his boxers growing darker as he pissed himself. “They were gonna kill me.”

You cocked the gun, smiling cruelly. “You’re pathetic.” Gregory closed his eyes, waiting for the shot and you held the gun out in your shaking hand. It was fun, satisfying even, to watch him cower and soil himself, to see what a pathetic mess he was. “Nah,” you shrugged. “You’re really not worth it. I mean, I wanted you to suffer and -” Gesturing around the room, you gave a humorless laugh. “Someone else will kill you eventually.”

“Then what did you want?” Gregory asked, still shaking and wary of the gun.

“I want you,” you jerked the gun toward his phone, “to make a call.”

“To who?”

The sadistic smile on your face returned and you tilted your head. “Whoever it is you call for your fix. Call them and arrange a meeting.” Gregory moved towards the phone and you stopped him quickly. “Ah -” you snapped. “No funny business or I  _will_  put a bullet between your eyes. I’ve spent the last two months with some very interesting people and I picked up a thing or two.”

The fear on his face was real and it gave you a sickening feeling in your stomach. You wanted to be proud of what you’d done to him, you  _were_ , but at the same time, it wasn’t you.

 _It’s only a temporary measure_ , you reminded yourself.

Gregory flinched when you jerked the gun again, forcing him toward the phone faster. “Don’t think I won’t kill you, Gregory,” you growled as his shaking hand reached out and picked up his phone, unlocking the screen. “Make the call.”

*****

Dean woke with a sleepy grin, rolling over to wrap his arms around you. When he found the mattress cold and the sheets abandoned, he sat up and frowned. It didn’t take long for concern to rise in his chest and he dressed quickly, rushing downstairs with his shirt hanging from his fingers.

Sam was already awake and back from his run and he looked over when Dean rushed into the kitchen. “Have you seen Y/N?” Dean asked, his cheeks red.

With a confused expression, Sam shook his head. “No, dude, it’s 6am. Why are you up?”

“Because Y/N wasn’t there.”

“Bathroom?” Sam suggested and Dean’s concern deflated a little. “Man, you’re still dosed up on meds. She’s probably in the shower.” The older Winchester glanced over his shoulder as the door opened and Benny walked in, the morning papers under his arm.

“Mornin’ boys,” he greeted before pausing at Dean’s expression. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Why not?” Sam scoffed.

Benny frowned. “Well, the Nissan’s gone from next to your mom’s car. Unless your mom needed a change -” Mary’s footsteps echoed down the stairs, closely followed by Jack. Dean’s face went a funny shade of grey. “I guess not,” Benny smiled. “Mornin’, Mrs. Winchester.”

Mary waved him off, focusing on Dean. “What’s all the fuss? You woke me and Jack up slammin’ your bedroom door. Are you okay?”

“Y/N wasn’t there when I woke up,” Dean explained. “Sam thinks she’s in the shower but the Nissan is gone.” Jack’s eyes widened and Dean caught the change in expression, glaring at him. “What is it, Jack?”

“I - I got up for a glass of water and Y/N was moving around. I - I heard her leave your room when I went back upstairs.”

“What time?” Dean demanded as Sam grabbed his laptop off of the kitchen table, logging into the house security cameras. Jack paled, shaking his head.

“I don’t know! I was half-asleep and -”

“4am,” Sam interjected, clicking his fingers at his brother. “She left the house, took the Nissan just after 4.” He pulled up a fresh webpage to track the GPS on her phone. Dean waited, watching, nervously tapping his foot on the floor.

Mary blinked, looking between her sons. “Where would she go?” she asked. “Home?”

“No,” Sam murmured, standing straight. Dean looked at the map, spotting the GPS signal where it had cut out at 5:08am. “She didn’t go home.”

Dean’s back went stiff and his eyes darted to the stairs. Weaving through the other occupants of the room, he dashed back up to his bedroom, heading straight for the bedside drawer. Just as Sam skidded into the doorway, Dean cursed loudly, looking up at his brother with a look of dismay.

“She took my gun.”

*****

The nerves were getting to you now.

Gregory had called his contact and shakily asked to meet. It occured to you that you didn’t even know how deep your father was - was this drugs? Gambling? Prostitutes?

You assumed by the early hour, it was unlikely to be gambling, but when the call ended, you had to ask him. In some way, you needed to know what your life was worth. Jabbing the gun at him, you forced him onto the couch, sitting opposite him.

“6:30am. At the Marina,” he gasped out, clutching his chest.

Maybe he was having a heart attack.

You didn’t care.

“Why did you do it?” you hissed, keeping the gun on him. Gregory spluttered, tears rolling down his cheeks. There was a distinct lack of sympathy for him; all you could feel was rage. “Tell me. What was I worth?”

“Thirty-six thousand dollars,” he mumbled, shoulders heaving with his crocodile tears. “But I never meant -”

“Can it,” you snarled unpleasantly, “I don’t wanna hear your lousy excuses. Get dressed. We’re going to the Marina.”

Gregory’s eyes went wide, his fear all too evident on his face. Your inner voice sneered “ _coward_ ” making you hate him all the more. “I can’t go with you!” he exclaimed. “Those men… they’ll kill me.” You shrugged and he stammered in offense. “Y/N -”

“Get,” you aimed the gun at his forehead, mercilessly glaring at him, “dressed.” He shuddered when the muzzle came flush with his skin. “Don’t think I won’t kill you. You make me sick.” You spat at his feet, feeling unusually cruel. If he did die tonight, by your hand or someone else’s, you wouldn’t care.

He got dressed quickly but he didn’t stop sniveling. You concealed the gun back in the hoodie, keeping it aimed at him and Gregory obediently descended the stairs down to the parking lot. It was down to him to drive and you kept the gun on him, remembering to put your seatbelt on.

Traffic would be light at this time of the morning, but you weren’t going to fall for the old trick of slamming on the brakes.

Thankfully, your father didn’t seem dumb enough, or maybe smart enough, to try anything. He drove, sobbing, through the back streets of the city, avoiding major roads until the tarmac gave way to poorly maintained concrete and gravel. Boat masts lined the horizon where the sun was shimmering over the lake. It looked peaceful, tranquil - where it was likely no one would hear anything that went on.

Gregory parked the car and you ordered him out, directing him with the gun as you checked your phone. You had no signal and it was nearly 6:15am. “Where’s the usual spot?” you demanded and your father turned, looking at you sadly.

It was everything you could do not to shoot him there and then. You’d never been so full of rage and hatred.

“T-this way,” he muttered, shuffling off. Following, you kept your eyes peeled for any movement, seeing nothing.

Five minutes later, tires on the gravel alerted you to the arrival of someone. Gregory had led you to the edge of the Marina by a yellow bench that had flowers painted on it. You stood, gun held to the back of his head as the car stopped and three doors slammed shut.

“Stay where you are,” you growled as Gregory shifted his feet on the gravel.

Three men rounded the corner. Your lungs ceased worked as you recognized each one in turn. At the front, the suited man in yet another crisp Armani to match his snake-like grin. On his left, Marcus, wearing a similar black three-piece with a blue tie that matched his startling eyes. To the right, was Grayson, the stark ink of “DEATH” across his neck standing out against the grey of his suit.

You swallowed as they came to a stop and the gun shook in your hand. Gregory was whimpering pathetically and the suited man started to chuckle under his breath, shaking his head.

“Y/N, my girl,” he drawled. “You are full of surprises.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, turning the gun on him.

“And Gregory,” the man clicked his tongue in disappointment, “how on earth did this spunky little thing come from you?” He leaned forward as Gregory cowered and your stomach lurched with disgust. “Did you enjoy the video?”

You were going to puke. Your finger felt sweaty on the trigger and you almost jumped when your father started to talk. “Please, Brady -”

The use of his name made the suited guy’s eyes burn in anger and you felt a small spark of courage steady your posture. “Shut up,” Brady ordered, straightening his tie and turning his attention back to you. “Y/N, put the gun down.”

“No,” you ground out. “You - you ruined my life.”

Brady snorted and the two other men laughed. “Sweetheart,” you cringed at the nickname coming from his lips, “you didn’t have a life. I did you a favor.”

Coldness filled your bones and the shaking in your hand eased off as the rage returned. “You raped me.”

His lips curled upwards in a sneer that made your rage turn into an outright inferno. Pressing one foot forward, his upper body leaned forward. “You loved it,” he hissed, eyebrows high.

You pulled the trigger.


	21. Chapter 21

Never in your life had you fired a gun. You only vaguely knew how to use one because of the movies. In no way were you prepared for the feel of actually firing one. Let alone the heavy ivory engraved Colt that belonged to Dean.

The shot went wide, catching Grayson in the shin and the man went down with a screech of pain. You stumbled with the recoil, losing your balance and landing on your ass. Marcus moved to help his friend and Gregory turned, sprinting away down the path as Brady growled in frustration.

He pulled a gun from inside his jacket and smiled at you. “You missed,” he teased, aiming his weapon and you dropped to the floor, covering your head. Brady fired one single shot and you closed your eyes, waiting to die.

Your father’s body hit the ground with a thud and a crunch.

Realizing the immediate danger was over, you looked up, seeing Brady approaching you. He wasn’t as big as Sam or Dean but he was still bigger than you. Dean’s gun was still in your hand and you raised it, shaking again, worse than before.

“Get back,” you screamed, tears filling your eyes.

Brady stopped, holding his gun out to the side, away from you. He tilted his head, eyes sparkling. “Do you really think you can kill someone, Y/N?” he asked, regarding you coolly.

“I want -” You swallowed, feeling how dry your mouth was. “I want to know why.”

A crooked smile stretched Brady’s lips. “Because your daddy had debts to pay. ‘Course,” he shrugged lazily, rolling his shoulders, “he only went and racked ‘em back up again.”

“And Victor took me as payment,” you stated but Brady started to laugh.

“Victor?” He shook his head, teeth gleaming in the darkness. “You know how easy it is to distract a Winchester? They’re so… primal. Give them a pretty woman and they lap it up.” The gun was wobbling in your grip now as the sun filled the Marina with oranges and yellows, covering your father’s corpse and Grayson’s bloodied leg. Brady looked around. “You’re not getting out of here, darlin’.”

“I’ll kill you,” you seethed, wiping at your face angrily. “You took  _everything_  from me. You and Victor -”

Brady laughed again. “Victor is dead, you stupid little bitch. I killed him because he was too much of a fuckin’ pussy to take out the competition!” He leaned back, spreading his arms wide. “I’m in charge, baby. And you’ve handed yourself over on a silver fucking platter. Now I get the bait, I get rid of the dead weight,” he paused, smiling widely and cruelly, “and I can get rid of the Winchesters. My very own criminal empire, ready to roll in the cash.”

“You’re a deluded fuck,” you snarled, cocking the gun again, hearing the satisfying click of the chamber. Brady didn’t seem bothered, giving you a look that told you of his disbelief in your ability. “I’m a better shot up close,” you said, squeezing the trigger.

There was a split second where you thought it might have gone wide, but the bullet hit Brady in the middle of his stomach, sending him backwards with a surprised look on his face. His back hit the ground with a thud and Marcus yelled, pulling his gun on you.

You felt the bullet graze the air as you threw yourself out of the way. Brady was writhing now, cupping his wound with his hands, cursing you over and over. “Fucking bitch shot me!” he screamed, just as Marcus ran up to him. “Kill her,” Brady ordered, spittle coating his lips, his face almost purple with fury.

Pushing yourself off of the ground, you looked for an escape, hearing Marcus cock the gun behind you. In the distance, you heard another vehicle gunning it down the Marina approach.

“Shoot her!” Brady ordered and you had to make your choice.

Marcus’ finger squeezed the trigger just as you flung yourself forward, feeling air, a sting of pain and then cold all around you.

*****

Dean’s foot had the gas pedal pressed to the floor as he peeled through town toward the Marina. Sam was beside him, Jack and Benny in the back. Mary had wanted to follow but Dean made her stay behind, summoning Castiel to meet them there.

The sun had almost fully risen and Dean knew you had a significant amount of time on him. He didn’t know what you were thinking, but he did know he was going to throttle you and kill you in a very loving way when he got his hands on you again.

They heard the gunshot as they approached the Marina and saw one man covered in blood, slumped against the side of the Nissan you’d taken. He raised a gun as the Impala pulled up but Sam was already out of the door and aiming his own weapon.

He was dead before he could fire. Sam checked the man’s pockets just as they heard another gunshot and someone shouting. Before anyone else could stop him, Dean took off running towards the waterfront, skidding to a halt as he saw a large black man stood looking into the water and the suited guy from the lookout on the ground, bleeding from his stomach.

“Hey!” Dean yelled, aiming his gun at the black guy, just as Sam and Benny rocked up behind him, both of them holding their own weapons.

“I’m curious,” the suited guy asked, laughing as he craned his neck to look at Dean and his companions. “How long can Y/N hold her breath? I didn’t get time to test it when she was my guest.” A dark look covered Dean’s face and Sam placed one hand on his shoulder. Suit Guy grinned at Sam. “My, my, didn’t you get big, Sammy?” Sam frowned and the guy chuckled. “Don’t recognize me, huh? I had some work done,” he commented, patting his cheeks as recognition dawned on the younger Winchester brother.

“Brady?” Sam asked, disbelief on his face. “But you -”

“Died?” Brady scoffed. “Not so much. More… laying in wait. Honestly, it’s nothing personal, it’s entirely about money.”

“Where is she?” Dean growled, moving closer, shaking off Sam’s restraint. “Tell me or I’ll -”

Marcus chuckled as Brady glanced at him with a smirk. “Oh,” he drawled, laying his head back on the ground, “she’s probably sleeping with the fishes.”

Dean’s eyes lifted to the water a few meters away, his focus leaving Brady. The downed man’s fingers curled around his gun, out of sight until he lifted it and aimed. Sam shouted his brother’s name and Marcus lurched forward from the waters edge, firing wide but catching Benny in the shoulder. With another yell, Sam dropped himself onto Brady, his body jolting as the shot fired, bouncing off the gravel.

“Go!” Sam screamed, wrestling with Brady now and Dean scrambled for the water dodging Marcus as the large man tried to tackle him. Hands grasped his waist and they both went tumbling, landing with a splash in the icy water.

*****

The covers were warm around you. Calloused fingers stroked across your shoulder, someone else’s warm breath against your temple and Dean’s low hum of contentment rumbled through his chest. Everything had that sleepy dreamlike haze to it like a bright summer morning where the sun had only just risen and nothing made a sound.

“Do you think they’ll find us here?” Dean asked, his words mumbled against your hair. You smiled, pressing your face closer into the crook of his neck, humming against him.

“Not for awhile, I hope,” you whispered, kissing his skin softly. Dean chuckled, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you until your legs were around his waist. His cock twitched against your bare pussy and you lifted yourself, sliding down the length of his shaft until you both moaned in completion.

He pulled you down to kiss you, moving with your slow gyrations. You thrust your tongue into his mouth, brushing over his, tasting the whiskey he’d had with dinner. The covers slowly slipped from your bare bodies and Dean’s hands roamed over your skin like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“I could stay here forever,” you murmured, rubbing your nose over his. Dean smirked, rolling you so you were underneath, rocking into you with hard strokes. You arched your back, straining your head upwards as you came, clenching tightly around his cock.

“Then stay,” he replied, closing his mouth over your pulse point, the pressure feeling heavier. The room around you shifted, like the air was thicker, and you knew you weren’t going to stay.

It became unbearably cold as you came down from your high and you tried to focus on Dean; his smile, his touch, the way he filled you over and over. This was all you wanted. Just you and him.

Heaven.

“I got you,” he groaned, covering your mouth with his own again.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe and you clung to him, feeling his warmth against your icy skin. Dean pulled back, still smiling. Another kiss; his hands cradled your face and you closed your eyes.

“I got you.”

Pain filled your chest and everything was freezing. It felt like acid surging up your throat as you emptied your lungs and someone’s hands cupped your face.

_“Come back to me, sweetheart.”_


	22. Chapter 22

Your chest hurt.

When you opened your eyes, you immediately shut them again as they were assaulted by bright light and you kept them shut until a shadow fell over your face. “Y/N?” Dean’s voice. Your lungs burned and you shivered as you realized your entire body felt like ice.

“Dean?” you croaked, tasting blood on your tongue.

“You’re a really lucky gal, you know that?” Dean laughed, almost hysteric. You cracked your eyes open a little, just so you could lay eyes on him and see his face, make sure he was real. Lifting one arm, you clung to him as he pulled you up into a seated position. “I got you,” he soothed.

“You’re soaked,” you whispered, clutching his arms as your entire body trembled.

Dean was still laughing, the sound filled with relief. “Come on,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the side of your head. “Let’s get you out of here.”

It felt like everything was numb as he helped you to your feet, almost carrying you away from the water’s edge. Blue flashing lights fought with the sunlight to blind you and you covered your eyes with one frozen hand to shield them.

Dean led you to an ambulance, sitting you on the back as an EMT checked you over. He was shaking now too, his hair dripping into his face.

“Sir, I should get you a blanket,” the woman EMT said softly and he nodded, shuddering as he clutched your hands.

“What happened?” you asked, lifting your eyes to cast them over the scene. There were cops everywhere; Brady was unconscious and being loaded into an ambulance opposite yours. “He’s alive.”

Dean turned his head grimacing. “Yeah,” he grunted. “He’s gonna get what he deserves: a long life behind bars being some big guy called Alvin’s bitch.”

You snorted then promptly sneezed in Dean’s face and his features screwed up in distaste. The look was so adorably scornful that you burst out giggling. “I’m sorry,” you managed through the wheezing, prompting the EMT to place an oxygen mask over your face. “That was funny.”

“You need to slow your breathing,” the EMT lady instructed, patting your shoulder and you nodded.

“What happened?” you asked again and Dean sighed.

“We got here just after you went in the water. I doubt you can feel it at the moment but you got shot again.” You blinked, looking down at yourself, spotting blood on the leg of your pants. “Another graze. Like I said,” Dean grinned charmingly, “you’re a lucky girl.” Smiling bashfully, you squeezed his hand, although you could barely feel the sensation. “The bald one is dead. The other one went in the water with me when I was trying to get to you.”

A yell echoed across the Marina and several officers ran to the water’s edge. They’d found something.

Dean sucked in a breath. “That’s probably him. I caught him pretty good with an elbow to the temple.”

“Self-defense, right?” you whispered, fright filling your eyes. “I mean, you and Sam and Benny -”

“You don’t need to worry about that right now,” he soothed, stroking your cheek. The EMT lady jumped down from the rig, giving you a smile. “She needs to go to hospital, right?” The lady nodded. “Can I go with her?”

“You gotta go get checked too, buddy,” the lady chuckled as Dean’s face crumbled in dismay. You giggled again, tugging his fingers.

“C’mon. It won’t be that bad. I’ll hold your hand.”

*****

Everything was white. The snowfall had timed perfectly with the end of the school semester and you could hear the children playing in the street outside Eileen’s office. In the corner, a Christmas tree sparkled and Eileen’s desk was decorated with tinsel.

Tonight, you, Dean, Mary, and Jack, were going to decorate the house for Christmas. You’d been looking forward to it all week. This morning, you’d baked mince pies with Mary and told Dean to stop putting egg nog on his cereal.

“I think that’s it for this week,” Eileen said, smiling softly at you. “You’ve done really well, Y/N. You should be proud. Not many people have the strength to go through what you did and come out the other side.”

You smiled back, bashfully dropping your eyes to your hands. The diamond on your left ring finger sparkled and warmth blossomed in your chest.

“How are the wedding plans coming?” Eileen asked suddenly and you looked up, very much the deer in headlights.

“They’re, er, good?” you tried, screwing up your face. “I’m not great at this stuff. I kinda wish Dean wanted to run away to Vegas or something but Mary -” Eileen nodded in understanding. “Yeah, you get it,” you chuckled. “When will I be seeing you again?”

“Actually,” Eileen started, “I’m discharging you from my service as a regular patient.” Your jaw dropped - you’d only been in therapy for a few months. “I’ll be here of course if you need me and I’ll always be around the house.”

“You really think I’m… I’m coping?”

Eileen nodded, reaching over to touch your hand. “Y/N, you’ve recovered remarkably. Not only that, you’re  _happy_.” Her eyes dropped for a split second, a sly smile crossing her face and you felt your cheeks heat up. “And I think Dean will be too.”

You nodded, wiping away tears. “Thank you,” you whispered. “I mean, I don’t feel ready but you haven’t steered me wrong yet.”

“Well, I’ll see you in a couple of days anyway for the Christmas Ball,” she pointed out and you groaned. “Not looking forward to it?”

“I know it’s a charity thing, but Dean’s expecting a glamorous dress and Mary keeps offering me jewelry to wear and I’m…” You shook your head, sighing heavily. “I’m frightened I won’t be up to the standard.”

Eileen laughed lightly, touching the necklace around her throat. “Oh, sweetheart. Dean asked you to  _marry_  him. He would die for you. Even more so when you finally tell him.”

“I was thinking about waiting until Christmas Day,” you mused. “But I’m not sure.”

“Maybe do it at the ball?” Eileen suggested.

“No,” you whispered, frowning. “Dean doesn’t do public.”

“It doesn’t have to be public,” she pressed. “Take him to one side for a minute. I can tell you where all the best dark corners are.” You sniggered loudly, covering your mouth as the other woman laughed with you. “Come on. No doubt your charming knight is pacing the lobby waiting for you.”

*****

The party was unlike anything you’d ever attended before. Every year, the wealthiest people in the state came together to raise money for charitable causes, something the Winchesters spearheaded. It had come as a little bit of a surprise that Dean could be such a philanthropist when he was a literal gangster.

He  _did_  not like being referred to as Robin Hood, you quickly discovered.

And Dean discovered that you found it highly amusing to tease him, calling him the Prince Of Thieves and setting your ringtone to Bryan Adams. When Sam had heard it the first time, he’d snorted granola out of his nose, so Dean decided it was worth being teased for that beautiful memory.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Dean murmured, leading you around the dancefloor to a slower jazz-style rendition of  _Baby, It’s Cold Outside_. “I didn’t tell you before.”

You smiled, leaning into him, mindful of your dress dragging on the floor. “Your mom picked it out. And Bess helped with make-up.”

“You’re still beautiful,” he insisted, capturing your lips in a kiss. It still felt odd, such an attractive man kissing you in public, in full view of everyone he cared about or knew. You didn’t want to think about how you got there but you were, undoubtedly, happy.

“You wanna sneak out early?” you asked, suddenly desperate to tell him the secret you’d been hiding for almost a week.

Dean looked around. “Er, the speeches,” he muttered, meeting Sam’s eyes.

“After,” you urged, pressing closer to him. “Please?”

“Goddamn,” he groaned, cupping your face with one large hand. “You’re irresistible.” He leaned in, kissing you again as the song ended and the room erupted into applause for the band. Dean took your hand, smiling as he led you toward Sam. “Sammy, you mind doing the usual speech this year?” he asked and you blinked at him in surprise.

Sam grinned. “Sure,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye. “You had enough of the higher classes already?”

Dean chuckled, slapping his brother’s shoulder. “Somethin’ like that. I’m gonna take the Impala.”

“No problem. See you tomorrow?” Sam called and Dean nodded, rushing you out of the door to the point that you were glad you’d worn flats. It was embarrassing enough to be all dolled up without falling flat on your face, too. By the time you reached the Impala, you were a little breathless and Dean didn’t help when he kissed you before opening the door.

“Home?” Dean asked, sitting heavily in the driver’s seat, reaching over for your hand. You smiled and nodded, squeezing his fingers.

The drive was only fifteen minutes but it was made in a comfortable silence, filled with little glances and touches like you were two teenagers on their way back from prom. When you arrived at the house, it was quiet and empty - neither of you kept quiet, stumbling from the Impala through the back door in a tangle of limbs and kisses.

Dean’s jacket ended up on the kitchen floor and your shoes were abandoned on the landing. He struggled with the bedroom door, too occupied with touching you as your fingers groped the bulge in his tuxedo pants. The haze of arousal was overwhelming, almost eclipsing the reason you’d wanted him alone.

“Dean,” you mumbled, his hand finally twisting the door handle the right way. Both of you fell inside laughing and Dean moved in for another kiss. “Dean, stop.”

He froze, concern on his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you assured him, placing your hands either side of his face. “I love you,” you whispered and he smiled bashfully. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” Dean was still frowning, the worry not leaving his eyes. “Are you okay?”

You smiled with a shrug. “I’m fine. But I’m probably gonna start gaining weight and being really moody.” His eyebrows dipped even further together as he tried to figure out the cryptic clue. The second it clicked, his entire face went slack. “I know,” you started, feeling a little nauseous, “that it’s soon and we’ve only just gotten engaged…”

He cut you off, the puzzle coming together in his mind. “Are you telling me -” he swallowed, staring at you in shock. “I’m gonna be a father?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, tears in your eyes now as awe and wonder filled his. “You’re gonna be a father.” His hand dropped, gently touching your belly and you giggled, happy tears rolling down your cheeks. Dean’s face burst into a grin and he kissed you hard, pushing you back toward the bed, his fingers tearing at the fastenings on your dress.

The zipper got stuck halfway down and Dean growled in frustration. “You look beautiful in the dress,” he grunted, turning you so he could get at the zipper, “but you’d look much better naked.”

You shrieked in surprise when he yanked hard on the zipper and it came free, letting the dark material drop from your shoulders to pool at your feet. Dean’s hands closed over your shoulders, dragging you back against his body; you could feel the outline of his cock through his pants, pressing insistently into your lower back.

Undoing your bra, Dean let it fall before cupping your breasts, kissing along your shoulder until you tipped your head to give him better access. He trailed one hand down, spreading his fingers over your belly, one digit tickling the thick scar on your side.

“Dean,” you whined pitifully. He chuckled, his hand moving further south to dip under the elastic of your panties, the other still fondling your breast. His thumb stroked over the hard peak of your nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath.

“I’ve always got you,” Dean whispered, pressing his index finger between your slick folds. You hummed in pleasure, reaching one arm back to cup the back of his head as he sucked a dark bruise into your throat. The combination of his touch on your breast and on your clit was enough to have your brain turning to mush, nothing but desire for him existing in your thoughts.

He brought you to the edge slowly, practically holding you up when your knees started to shake. Your cries were quiet and strained and Dean kept going until your body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and your chest was heaving with the expenditure of energy.

“On the bed, sweetheart,” he ordered softly and you turned, breaking free of his hold. You didn’t comply immediately, looking up at him with a languid smile on your face that compelled him to kiss you again. When he was done, Dean smirked against your lips. “Panties off.”

Stepping back, you pushed the fabric down over your hips, lowering yourself onto the bed. Dean kept his eyes on you as he unbuttoned his pants, leaving them gaping open to turn his attention to his shirt. You watched, reclined on the bed, feet apart but knees together, still not entirely comfortable with exposing yourself so intimately.

Unclipping his bow-tie, Dean tossed it toward the dresser, smirking as he undid the final button and the material of his shirt slid down over his arms, going with the curve of his muscles. You couldn’t help but lick your lips as inches of golden skin were exposed, the defined “v” sloping down into his open pants almost delicious enough to eat.

Dean pushed his pants down, along with his boxers, his cock springing free and he stood straight, stepping out of the material, left only in his black socks. With a grin, he fell on top of you, pushing your thighs apart until he could nestle between them, instantly lowering his mouth to surround one nipple with his lips.

A laviscious moan vibrated around your breast and you gasped, spreading your legs wider and his bare cock slid through your soaked folds. “Stop teasing,” you murmured needily and Dean chuckled, turning his attention to your other breast, making no move to penetrate you. With a desperate groan, you lifted your hips, trying your hardest to impale yourself on his shaft, but Dean wouldn’t allow it. You lifted your feet, hooking them behind his back, digging your heels into his ass.

“You keep doin’ that,” he mumbled, dragging his tongue over your swollen nipple, “and I won’t fuck you, princess.”

You grunted in frustration, ceasing your actions and pouting at him. Dean laughed, shaking his head as he caught your mouth in a kiss. He took advantage of the distraction, sliding smoothly inside you with one stroke, forcing you to cry out against his lips.

He was panting when he pulled away, still smiling, and when he started to move, you gasped, pulling him back into a kiss. Your bodies moved together, hard strokes making the slap of your skin echo around the room, mixing with the sound of your moans and heavy breathing.

One of Dean’s big hands cradled your face, his thumb framing your chin to keep your head tilted up towards him; the other splayed across your hip and stomach. He was leaning heavily on his left, the angle sending his cockhead slamming into your sweet spot with every stroke. You responded to his kisses eagerly and noisily, crying out when you felt the first sparks of your climax in your belly.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, both hands cupping the back of his head, tugging on his short hair, and Dean growled.

“Then cum.” His hips crashed into you and you arched, pulling his hair harder and Dean buried his face in your breasts, his forehead slick against your skin. Your body tensed for a few seconds that felt like forever before your entire being was overwhelmed with pleasure.

Dean’s body shuddered and he filled you to the hilt, holding himself deep inside you as he came, groaning against your breasts.

He rolled off of you, grabbing the sheets and pulling them over you both as you lay across the bed, feet dangling off the edge. You smiled, letting your head fall to face him and Dean was grinning too. “You’re amazing,” you murmured, sliding your hand across to lace your fingers together underneath the sheets.

“Not so bad yourself,” Dean muttered back, leaning over to kiss you. It wasn’t a long or deep kiss, barely more than a brush of his lips against yours, but it was perfectly sweet and passionate. The hand you weren’t holding slid across your belly, preceding a little wiggle of his hips as he shuffled closer. “How far along?” he asked and you smiled, having to pull your head back a little to look him in the eye.

“About eleven weeks. I’ve got a scan in the New Year,” you whispered, covering his hand on your belly with your own. “You’re okay with this?”

Dean’s smile couldn’t have been any wider as he leaned in to kiss you again. “More than okay,” he murmured against your lips, “as long as I got you.”


End file.
